Forbidden
by Sarah Kathleen
Summary: With the cruel betrothed no longer between them, everything should be simple... shouldn't it? Unfortunately, for the starcrossed, this is not the case. HA
1. The First Meeting

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of _Troy_ or anything related to it. The only things I own are things that you don't recognize, and more than likely there won't be many.**

**A/N: I'm taking some liberties with history, legend, and the movie with this. Well, I'm bringing creative license into effect, we'll put it that way. At any rate, I thought I'd warn you of it now.  
Also, this is just an experiment, really. Should I get a good response, I'll probably continue, but right now I'm just kinda testing things, if you know what I mean.  
Therefore, if you like it, the survival of the story really is dependant on reviews, lol, because this is just an experiment.  
Anywho, off we go!**

o0o

"Really, Andromache, the young Trojan prince is utterly divine. Shaped by the hands of the gods themselves!"

The sole princess of Thebe sighed, shaking her head. "Divine he may be, but this does not annul the fact that he is a womanizer."

"There are some things that a woman can overlook, if given the right incentive," the eldest princess of Lampsascus, Cloris, asserted with a wicked smile. Andromache nudged her friend's arm.

"He's younger than us both by at least three years. Maybe more!"

"That, also, is something I am willing to overlook."

"Incorrigible," Andromache muttered, shaking her head once more. Cloris rolled her eyes.

"Why must you use such large words? Only _men _care for such things." She said this as if intelligence were an undesirable thing. Andromache, however, was used to such responses to any show of intellect, and quickly tucked her mind away behind a mask of petty, frivolous thinking; the same way other women thought. Or were supposed to think, at least. Rather than answer the princess's accusation, she steered the topic artfully away from herself.

"You're engaged to the elder prince, what has you looking at his brother?"

"Really, Andromache-" Andromache didn't point out that Cloris was being repetitive, "the younger prince is the finer of the two. Prince Hector may be the Tamer of Horses and leader of the Trojan Army and heir to the Trojan throne, but Prince Paris is the attractive one of the two."

_Ah, _she thought. _The elder is a warrior. Wonderful that I'm not marrying him, then. I want a man, not a fighter._

Of course, the rumor that her own betrothed had more than just female lovers had no affect on this thought at all. In fact, she struggled often not to think of it.

"I suppose I shall discover for myself soon enough. They will be arriving soon, or so my father told me."  
"When will Prince Corydon be arriving?"  
She managed not to sigh, but it was difficult: Prince Corydon of Mytilene was to be her husband, and it was a union she did _not _like to dwell on. Not, of course, that she would withdraw from the marriage agreement; she had a duty to Thebe, after all. She simply did not like to think of her future husband. All of the reasons why were beyond her.

"I'm not sure. Within the next few day, doubtless," she answered absently. She held out her wrist in a desperate effort to distract Cloris from all the talk of marriages and men. "My mother and father gave me a bracelet yesterday."

The ploy worked. Cloris gasped and snatched at Andromache's wrist, pulling the limb closer so as to better study the piece of jewelry. The mother-of-pearl, silver-accented bangle glinted in the torchlight, and the Princess of Lampsascus was enthralled. "It's beautiful!" she breathed. "For what reason did your parents give you such a gift?"

"No reason, really. It was my mother's when she was young." She did not mention that it had been given to her to honor her engagement, nor did she mention that it had been a gift her mother had received at her own engagement.

A wave a dizziness washed over her, and she inwardly cursed; it was the third time she had wavered during their short walk in the garden, and Andromache was beginning to suspect that she was ill. This was not something she wanted to admit to, in the least; she had always been a bit weaker than most women, physically, and it was a bit of a sore subject for her after growing up with seven brothers. Also, it would be quite rude to be bedridden on the day yet another envoy of guests would arrive.

For, thanks to its location, Thebe had become the meeting place for not only Andromache and her betrothed, but the Princess of Lampsascus and the Prince of Troy. The Trojan envoy was due to arrive within the day, the envoy from Mytilene within the week.

This wave of dizziness, however, did not pass as the others had. She wavered, and then her knees buckled, forcing Cloris to struggle to support her. After an instant or two, Andromache had steadied herself… for the most part.

"Are you well?"

Andromache offered her a forced smile and opened her mouth to assure Cloris of her well being, but a firm voice said, "She is not well, Princess. I am afraid my daughter is quite _un_well." Anatola, Queen of Thebe, approached the two young women with a gentle smile, holder her hand out to her daughter.

"Your Highness," Cloris murmured, stepping away from Andromache as Anatola took her daughter's hand.

"Your brother is feeling off, as well. I believe the food was improperly prepared," Anatola informed them. The Princess of Thebe nodded in acceptance; the food had tasted slightly off during her luncheon with her youngest brother. Cloris, however, gasped in outrage.

"Surely you will exact punishment on the faulty staff that is to blame?" she cried. Andromache blinked, her nausea growing steadily now that she had finally acknowledged it, as Anatola stepped into the role Cloris expected her to.

"Of course, Princess. I myself shall see to their punishment." Cloris nodded her approval, and Anatola said, "I believe I shall now take my daughter to her chambers. She needs rest."

Cloris nodded and bowed. "I hope you feel well again soon, Andromache."

"Thank you, Cloris," she replied as her mother began guiding her out of the gardens and into the palace. After a few moments, she finally asked the question that was foremost in her mind. "You won't really punish the staff, will you? It was a simple mistake, I'm sure."

"I shall make inquiries, as I must, but it is doubtful that punishment will be needed."

Andromache nodded.

"It was quite sudden, wasn't it, dearest?"

She smiled softly at the pet name. "It was," she replied. "I was dizzy before, but I never realized that anything was amiss until just a moment ago."

"At least you did not realize yours as your brother realized his. He was practicing his archery one moment, and retching in the bushes the next."

The princess giggled a bit. "Poor Othello! Was he terribly embarrassed?"

"No, he was the only one in the area."

"Well, he has that, at least." She glanced about her quarters, comforting, familiar, and inviting. "Othello and I were the only ones to be exposed to the foods that made us sick?"

"Yes, dearest."

She nodded as firmly as her dizziness would allow. "Good."

Anatola immediately tucked her daughter into bed, not dissimilar to the they way she'd done it when Andromache was a young girl. She giggled a bit over the idea. "I feel as if I were seven years old and bedridden with a case of the chills," she said, smiling up at her mother.

Anatola smiled down at her and kissed her forehead. "A mother will coddle her child for any reason, no matter the age." The queen rose and made for the door. "Rest well, dearest."

o0o

It was dark when she awoke, and the sounds of the welcome feast could be heard even from her chambers. Andromache rolled over onto her back and sighed, staring up at the ceiling. The Trojan princes had arrived.

Though, to temper the bad news with good, she was feeling much better. Not that she wanted to join the feast; if only this once, she longed for quiet. She sat up, peering around her chambers. They were lovely; her sanctuary. But at that moment, they were a bit lifeless and dull, though not quite confining. She sighed as her eyes wandered to the window. Seeing the gardens beyond, she decided to change and go for a walk in the gardens. If she was careful in choosing what she wore, she knew that not even the servants or slaves would recognize her. Not most of them, at any rate, and those who would see her were ones who would keep her secret.

She changed into a gown of her favorite color, a vibrant royal blue made of a fine cotton, imported from Egypt. She left her hair down, covering it with a white cotton veil, as was proper. Along the way, she stopped by the nursery and, after swearing the nursemaid to secrecy, took her youngest nephew, Andreas, along with her. He was barely two years old, and he loved Andromache with an affection equal to that for his mother. She had always had a special way with children, a skill that few women, even experience mothers, possessed.

_When the gods curse us, they give us a gift to both comfort and torment us, _she thought wryly. The ability to bear children was sparse in her family; her mother had been the sole exception. Horror stories of dozens of failed pregnancies and horrendously difficult labors plague the women of Andromache's maternal family, and she knew that the chance that she would be as lucky as her mother was very low.

"Shall we play a game?" she asked Andreas, who nodded vigorously. Andromache lowered him to the ground and said, "All right. The game is called mark, except we won't play it as the soldiers do. You'll not have a whip. You shall be the marker. Basically, you have to chase me, and when you touch me, I become the marker, and I must chase you. Do you understand?"

"I chase!" he cried, flinging his arms up in excitement. She laughed.

"Close enough. Ready?"

"Yes!"

"All right. Go!"

Andromache started off at a brisk walk, exaggeratedly looking behind her and watching her nephew. He caught her in no time, of course - that had been her goal. Young Andreas scowled fiercely at her as he clung to her legs.

"No!" he cried, shoving at her legs. "Run!"

"I was running, Andreas."

_"Run!"_

"All right, but I have to chase you first." He sighed heavily, but relented.

"Fine. Chase!" And with that he was dashing away as fast as his pudgy legs would carry him. She took her time in catching him, of course, but when she did, he shrieked in delight.

"You run!" he cried, ecstatic at being the marker once again. "You run!"

With a small, playful scream, Andromache took off at a slow jog. Andreas was, apparently, satisfied with this, because he giggled and shrieked happily as he sprinted after her, teetering as his little legs carried him as fast as they would go.

They came to a small clearing, and Andromache stopped, whirled around, and lowered herself to a squat, opening her arms. Not a moment later, Andreas launched himself at her, and she fell backwards with him in her arms, laughing as Andreas squealed.

"Oh!" she cried, flailing her arms pitifully. "Oh, he has me! Someone help!"

"No, Amdroche!" he cried, covering her mouth with one small hand. She propped herself up on her elbows and gave him a mock-exasperated look.

"So you'll just attack me and be done with it?"

He hesitated, looking torn - he didn't want his aunt hurt, but they were playing a game! Then he said, "Yes?"

She sighed dramatically. "All right then. Goodbye, Andreas!" And with that, she laid back and stopped moving, her eyes closed.

Andreas giggled and shoved at her stomach, trying to get her to play, but she didn't move. It was a struggled to hide her smile, but somehow she managed.

"Amdroche," he whined, tugging at her dress. She still didn't move, and an edge of fear entered his voice. "Amdroche!"

"Andreas!" she said suddenly, grabbing him up and tickling him. He shrieked and giggled and squirmed as she tickled and teased him. After a bit of this game, the both of them calmed down, and Andreas curled on to her lap. She stood up and turned, thinking to sit by the fountain for a bit and enjoy the evening.

Unfortunately, there was a well-dressed, very _unfamiliar _man standing behind her.

Her cheeks suddenly felt quite warm as she saw his amused look, and she looked away, shifting her feet and her grip on Andreas. How long had he been standing there, watching her make a fool out of herself? She wasn't ashamed of playing with her nephew, but she also knew that it was customary for a child's relatives to hold small roles in that child's life; children were raised by nursemaids.

Andromache had always found this practice deplorable. If the child belonged to you, it was your duty to take care of it, not someone else's. Of course, Andreas did not belong to her, and thus her reasoning did not apply to this situation, but she stubbornly ignored it. She looked up at the man defiantly.

He, however, was not mocking in any way. Simply amused. Or, at least, that was all she saw on his - admittedly handsome - face. "Is he yours?" he asked her.

She looked him up and down for a moment. Tall, but she was tall as well. His body was much broader, however, than her own slender frame. He was very certainly a soldier. A high ranking one, if the fine linen of his clothing was any indication. He was also not nearly so obsessed with his appearance as most men equaling his rank were, however. She could see this from the way his mass of messy dark curls was pulled away from his face untidily, restrained by leather and gold clips.

He looked a decent sort, and so she answered him. "No," she replied, shifting Andreas a bit so that he was settled against her, his head on her shoulder. "He is my nephew."

"I see." He walked forward slowly, his hand clasped behind his back. "Do you play with your nephew often?" he asked, watching the little boy in her arms rather than her. She didn't know what to make of this.

"Yes, actually," she replied. "I believe that family should actually take part in a child's raising."

He looked up at her now, and she thought she saw approval in his eyes. "I noble belief. I commend you." He studied her for a moment, then stepped aside and gestured to path that wound around the fountain. "Would you like to walk with me? Your young companion may serve as our chaperone, I have no intentions toward you. In fact, I'm rather hoping you'll delay my return to the banquet with a prolonged discussion. We may speak of anything you like, so long as it is lengthy."

She thought, _So, he is as unhappy in such social situations as I am. Perhaps I shall rescue him._

She inclined her head gracefully. "Andreas shall serve as our chaperone, sir, and I shall delay your return. It seems that you dislike such situations as much as I. I am expected there, as well."

He raised his brows and fell in step beside her. "Andreas, did you say?"

"Yes."

"I see." He was silent for a moment, his hands clasped behind his back once more, and a pensive expression on his face as he watched the path beneath their feet. He was a pensive person, she decided; at least, he looked very comfortable with such a thoughtful aura. After a moment he frowned slightly and said, "I didn't see you at the festivities earlier."

"I was ill," she explained. "I've only recently felt up to leaving my chambers, and did not wish to join in such activities."

"Understandable."

The silence was a comfortable one as they continued their walk. Andreas was dozing on her shoulder and playing with the edge of her veil. After several moments of this companionable silence (odd, since she did not even know him; why would any silences between them be companionable?), she asked, "Did you arrive today?"

"Yes. I am finding Thebe to be quite hospitable."

"It is something we strive toward," she admitted, nodding her thanks for the compliment to her home. "Did you arrive with the Trojans?"

He seemed to oddly hesitate, considering his answer heavily before saying, "Yes. In a way."

She shrugged the shoulder that wasn't occupied by her nephew's head. If he had his secrets, it was no affair of hers. So she guided the subject away from that vein. "Other than our hospitality, how are you finding Thebe? To your pleasure, I hope?"

"It is quite beautiful here, yes. Your traditions are wonderful as well, some familiar, some completely new. Though I do miss the sea."

"The sea?"

"Yes. We're near enough to the sea to hear it, let alone see it. I've always seemed to have a special fondness for it, though why, I've never known."

"You don't always need a reason to be fond of something," she told him. "I've never seen the sea. I wish to, but I never have."

"Perhaps one day you will."

Andromache smiled, but it was slightly bittersweet. "Perhaps. One day."

"You don't think you will?"

"Yes." She paused, considering her circumstances, then said, "I take that back. I will see it someday, but it will be unwillingly."

His frown was thoughtful as he said simply, "I see."

After several moments of that oddly companionable silence, the man stopped and turned to her. "It seems out chaperone is neglecting his responsibilities."

Andromache turned her head slightly and saw that Andreas had fallen asleep. With a gentle smile, she unpinned her veil and slid it off her head and covered her nephew with it. She offered an apologetic smile to her companion. "I apologize for the breech of propriety," she said, gesturing to her now veil-less head.

He waved her apology away. "Think nothing of it. As it is," he nodded back in the direction they'd come from, toward the festivities, "how many breeches of propriety are being committed as we speak?"

She frowned slightly, wondering what he meant. Seeing her look, he explained. "How many people are sneaking away from that banquet with intentions that are…"

Comprehension dawned on her. "Less than delicate?" she supplied.

He nodded to her. "Well put."

"Thank you. Yes, I imagine many of them are departing for that very reason." She wrinkled her nose, but said nothing more; it was a well known fact that men were more likely to commit such acts than women, and she didn't want to inadvertently insult him. Yes, he did seem the honorable sort, who didn't resort to adultery, but she did not want to take the risk.

"Loathsome, deplorable practice," he said, sending a hard look in the direction of the festivities. Then he sighed and gave her a mournful smile. "Alas, there is little two people can do to change hundreds of years' worth of practices, appalling or not."

"All we can do is attempt to lead by example."

"Something I strive to do at all times." Andromache surveyed him; he looked like the honorable sort who would, indeed, try to lead by example. However, he also seemed like the sort who was on the verge of following those deplorable practices before he found his honor. True, it may have been years ago that he was not so sure of his principle, but it was still there.

Not, of course, that he wasn't an honorable man now. In fact, he was very honorable. She merely felt that the experience was there, even if it wasn't recent or a source of pride.

She did not say any of this, of course - decorum still had to be followed. She merely said: "An honorable practice."

"Thank you." He looked up at the sky, then back to her and said, "Might I escort you to your chambers? Or, at least, to his? It's getting late."

She nodded. "I thank you for it."

He waved it away, but said nothing as they changed direction and walked back toward the palace. When they arrived at the entrance nearest the nursery, Andromache turned to him and said, "This is were I leave you."

He bowed to her elegantly, something which confused her, but she didn't question it. "Rest well, my lady. I hope we will have another opportunity to speak."

He sounded as if he genuinely meant it, and Andromache surprised herself when she realized that she agreed with him. "Yes, I hope so as well. Good night."

The man nodded to her and walked away. It was only then that she remember that she had never gotten his name.

o0o


	2. The Soul of Thebe

**A/N: Wow! I never really expected to get the response that I did. True, it was only ten reviews, but I didn't expect that many at all, especially since they were all nice! Thank you all so much, though I ask for your continued support through this; I'm still not entirely sure if this story was ready to be posted when I posted it.**

**On another note, There are some parts of this chapter that get a little tedious, and I'm sorry for it. But it establishes things that may come up at a later time, and help to explain why Andromache is the way she is.**

**Oh! And I forgot the name to the first chapter:** _The First Meeting_

****

Chapter Two  
The Soul of Thebe

o0o

The next morning found Andromache by a small pond in the extensive gardens of her father's palace, tossing bits of old, dry bread into the water for the fish to eat. Many of them simply floated at the top of the water, which caused them to bloat grotesquely, but every so often a fish would slip up and snag the morsel from the surface, causing the princess to smile.

At that moment her third-oldest and closest brother, Erastus, walked over and caught a bit of bread before it fell into the water. She frowned up at him, opening her mouth to scold him for interrupting her fun, but he placed a hand over her mouth.

"Was it you, dear sister," he asked, a bit of warning in his tone, "that took my son away from his nursemaid last night?"

Her throat tightened as the fear crossed her that she'd been spotting speaking with a man with no escort outside a two-year-old boy. But her face remained calm as he removed his hand. "Yes, I did," she admitted. "I didn't want to go to the festivities after missing so much of them, and I wanted to play with my nephew. Is this troublesome?" she asked archly, her brows raising.

Her brother rolled his eyes and flicked her head; she, in turn, threw a bit of bread at him with a serene expression. He chuckled and sat beside her, stealing a bit of her bread and tossing it into the pond. "Of course not," he said. "You simply provided the opportunity for provocation."

"Which you are notorious for taking advantage of."

"Indeed." They fell silent as Erastus turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. Andromache, however, did not look at him except for out of the corner of her eye, keeping her eyes focused on the pond as she continued tossing bread pieces. "You never met the Trojan princes."

"No loss to either of us, I'm sure," she replied smoothly; indeed, she truly felt that it hardly mattered if Hector and Paris of Troy knew who she was. At her brother's silence, she gave him a flat look. "I'm betrothed to Prince Corydon, Erastus. There's nothing for it."

He glowered. "That man does not deserve you," he said fiercely, glaring out at the world. "Cursed thing has as many male lovers as female."

Andromache's mouth fell open and she hit his arm. "Erastus!" she cried, thoroughly shocked. "Don't say such things!"

"Even if they reek of truth?"

"I don't care what they reek of," she snapped. "Don't say it."

Erastus sighed heavily. "I believe I loathe him, Andromache."

"Do you really?" she asked sarcastically.

"Don't be angry," he said. "Come now, back to my subject. The Trojan princes."

Andromache shrugged. "As I said, I see no reason why I should be required to meet either of them. None of us would ever feel the loss."

"On the contrary, I think you would like the older prince," Erastus remarked.

She gave him a pointed look. "Is it proper for me to like him?" She chose not to mention that she'd rather liked the man she's spoken to the night before. But then, she doubted that he'd even truly known the Trojan princes, given his vagueness in his answer to her question of whether he was with the Trojans or not.

"So long as you have a chaperone, I can foresee no problem."

"With our family," she pointed out. "What of the Mytilenians?"

Erastus sighed. "You _had _to point them out?"

Andromache laughed at the real disappointment she heard in his voice. "Please, make no attempt to play matchmaker!" she teased.

"You taught my son the game of mark," he retorted, as if the two were on equal planes.

"Andreas and I play it without whips, unlike you brutes who flog each other during the game." Andromache eyed him, an irritated look on her face. "I have seen the way you beasts play that game. Not one of you ever escapes without open wounds!"

"The purpose of that game is training, not entertainment. That is why whips are used."

Andromache stood, delicately dusting off her gown and tossing the rest of the bread crumbs carelessly into the water. She looked to her brother and said simply, "Barbarians."

He stared at her for a moment as she turned regally and began walking back into the palace. Then he laughed, and he did it so richly that she had to struggle not to laugh herself as she made her toward the courtyard in the front of the palace.

o0o

The courtyard before the palace, known to the Theban's as the Shrine of the Queens and to the rest of the world as the Theban Court, was renowned throughout the known world as one of the most beautiful places to ever see. The courtyard itself was gigantic circle of stone, it's many shades forming a starburst pattern. Around the perimeter of the paved circle were beautifully carved statues of the royal women of Thebe, standing upon pillars, both of which were hewn from the purest white stone. Between each of the statues was a small, thin pillar, made from the same gloriously-white stone, that held a basin of oil in it, which was kept lit at all times. Surrounding the courtyard was a glorious, though small, garden, the beautiful white blossoms in full bloom.

The name Shrine of the Queens was slightly inappropriate, however, in that there were not only statures to the queens of Thebe, but to the princesses as well, few though they were - the royal family of Thebe ran high to boys.

Gazing around the courtyard, Andromache sighed. She would be leaving soon; within the next month. Leaving this, beauty which was known throughout the world, for a man she had never met and had never heard anything good about. She was resigned, of course - she had a duty to Thebe. True, Corydon was not an older prince, therefore making their bond of less political importance, but her country could use the added protection. Thebe had always been more of a center for the arts than military might, and Mytilene had just barely enough of that military might to help protect Thebe.

She slowly walked over to the likeness of a tall but very slender woman. Queen Ophelia had been her great-great-grandmother, and a legend in her own time. She bore only two children, but her son grew to be one of the greatest kings Thebe had ever seen, her daughter grew to fight against conformity and tradition and married a man she loved, creating a strong ally of a neighboring city which had once been at war with Thebe.

Ophelia herself had reformed the role of queen in Thebe, and given the Theban people a new respect for the female race. She was a physically weak woman, much like Andromache herself; she had many failed pregnancies, and only had the strength to bear two. She feel ill easily, bruised easily, and many of her joints were weak. Mentally, however, she was stronger than many, many men. During her rule, her husband, King Obelix, had been forced to declare war and, in a horrible turn for the worse, found himself leaving his home, wife, and two young children in order to lead the army personally.

The war was terrible. Ophelia took up the rule of Thebe when the steward fell in a direct attack of the city; many felt that the city-state was doomed as soon as she touched the throne. But, rather, Ophelia rose up to the call and, appearing stronger than any soldier, despite her physical weakness, she did more for Thebe than any man ever had done, and commanded the city guard herself more than once during attacks on the city, doing so with skill equal to the finest of generals. When her husband Obelix returned, he returned to find a city whose walls were battered, but the people within thriving more than ever before.

Obelix commended his wife greatly, even going so far as to say that she won the war for them. And, in many ways, she had: tales of the Great Warrior Queen permeated all of the lands around the Aegean, and stories of her victories, both economically and militarily, had elevated the army's morale greater than anything ever could, and many enemies had questioned fighting against a country whose _women _were so strong.

Not only this, but the gods themselves blessed Ophelia and her efforts. Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war, had personally taught Ophelia how to fight and had bestowed her with a blade of pure, unbendable gold, which became known as the Queen's Blade and was kept in a place of honor above the thrones. Artemis had blessed her with plenty of game to hunt, and had on one occasion defended Ophelia's children personally; Demeter had given Ophelia good harvests, and therefore plenty of food for those in the city and for the army; from Aphrodite came the pure, unadulterated love for and from Obelix; and from Hera, the birth of her two children. Apollo had smiled down at her for her defense of a city so dedicated to the arts, and had granted her healers with remarkable skills; Hephaistos had crafted her with a shield of silver and glass that was unbreakable, which became the Queen's Shield and was placed with the blade above the thrones; Ares had guided the blades of her soldiers; Hermes had given her merchants uncharted success; Poseidon had caused an earthquake that devastated the enemy, but had left Thebe and her warriors untouched; Dionysos had granted Ophelia's soldiers stealth.

The list continued, from Hecate to the Graces, from Eunomia to Peitho. Never had the Grecian world seen a woman so blessed by the gods. And the world, particularly Thebe, loved her for it.

Andromache reverently touched the foot of the stature. Ophelia had been as beautiful as she was great and intelligent, and uniquely so. Her hair had been a beautiful, deep red, her skin pale despite the amount of time she spent in the sun, and her eyes were striking blue, the same color as the sea, or so Andromache had been told - the Princess of Thebe had never seen the ocean. It was said that Ophelia had been a chosen one of the gods, for her looks, intelligence, and skills were so unique, so extraordinary.

Princess Andromache gazed up at the statue. The stone Ophelia of Thebe gazed out kindly at the world, as if to say, "This is my home, and I love everything in it, most especially you. Should you but call my name, I will aid you and your homeland." She held the blade of Athena in one hand, its tip pointed down, touching the pillar on which the statue stood, and her other hand was outstretched, as if she were offering aid to someone who had fallen. The shield Hephaistos gave to her was braced at her feet.

More than anything, Andromache wanted to be like Ophelia. Strong in the face of adversity, courageous, caring, dedicated, dutiful, honorable, loyal, all traits that Andromache wished to find in herself. As she did each time she came to the statue of Ophelia, she paused for a moment and reviewed the traits the queen had had, looking to see if she had them in herself.

First was strength in the face of adversity. Andromache frowned. Had she even faced adversity before? Then it occurred to her that, yes, she had: her ever-approaching marriage. Had she faced it with strength? _No, I haven't_, she thought. _I've never had so many ill thoughts toward a man as I have toward Corydon of Mytilene._

Next was courage. The response to this was instantaneous and emphatic: _no._ She was terrified of her upcoming marriage, particularly leaving her home, and equally afraid of the country she was moving to. No, she was not courageous.

Caring? She tried, at least, to always be caring towards others. She truly didn't know if she succeeded in this or not, but she at least tried.

Dedicated? After some consideration, she decided that she was, indeed, dedicated, to her home and to her family and to her people. They were, after all, the reasons that she was marrying Corydon.

Honorable? Well, she was no adulteress, and that was something. But whether or not she possessed honor… she was unsure.

Loyal? Yes. Her loyalty to her family and country was fierce, and she knew that, no matter how deplorable the situation might become in Mytilene, she would never be disloyal to her husband. Never would she lower herself to such a level, degrade herself in such a manner.

She sighed heavily; she still had many traits to gain before she could even begin to compare herself with the great Ophelia of Thebe.

"Ah, here you are! I though you had fled the city, my child."

Andromache turned to find her father, Eetion, a long with many members of the court and a man she didn't recognize, coming toward her. She folded her hands in front of her and walked toward her father, smiling. He smiled in returned and held out his hands, which she took, and kissed both her cheeks. "Daughter, this is Prince Paris of Troy. Prince, this is my most beloved daughter, Andromache."

She smiled to the prince, who took her hand and kissed it. He was charming, and just as attractive as Cloris had said, but Andromache wasn't fooled by the façade: there was intelligence behind those dark eyes, and a bright personality. "Do not be fooled, Prince," she said, glancing at her father before meeting Paris' eyes once more. "He claims I am his most beloved daughter, but the truth of it is that I am his _only_ daughter."

"All the more reason for you to be beloved in his eyes, Princess," he replied, a smile on his face as well. "Would you like to join us? Your father and his advisors were just giving me a tour of your beautiful palace, I would be much honored to be given a tour by the jewel of Thebe."

Andromache blushed slightly at the nickname, but replied, "I would love to." Paris offered his arm, which Andromache took, positioning herself between her father and the Trojan prince.

"You must excuse my brother, dear Andromache," Paris said. "He was offered the tour of the palace, but declined in order to go to the stables and riding arena with two of your brothers."

"He has given no offense," Andromache replied, patting his arm in a jokingly reassuring manner. "Fear not; I shall not have him flogged for slighting me. We all have our preferences."

"Well said, dear lady." Paris surveyed the surrounding courtyard that they had been walking through. "Is this the famed Theban Court?"

"Yes, though we know it as the Shrine of the Queens. Any royal woman who has lived here has a statue, so that we may remember her sacrifices and gifts to Thebe."

"Will you have one?"

"Of course!" the king of Thebe interjected. "What sort of father would I be if I did not honor my daughter?"

"It will be carved long after I leave, I'm sure," she told Paris. "My mother's likeness is being carved as we speak."

"It will be nothing compared to the original, I'm sure."

"Naturally."

"Now, dear children, my advisors and I will leave you. This servant girl will act as your escort."

Both Andromache and her companion nodded to Eetion, who kissed his daughter's cheek before turning and going back to the palace. A servant girl, Peta by name, came to walk behind them. The pair continued the tour.

"What else would you like to see, Prince Paris?" she asked as they continued their leisurely walk through the Shrine of the Queens.

He gave her an odd look. "Are you not afraid for your virtue?"

Andromache blinked at him, confusion evident on her face. "What," she asked, "has that got to do with your tour of Thebe?"

"My reputation is well known on this side of the Aegean, Princess Andromache."

She considered him for a moment, looking him up and down, and then saying, "I trust you, Prince of Troy. Perhaps your reputation is less than honorable, but you cannot be entirely at fault. You certainly don't seem the sort interested in rape." The prince winced at the world 'rape,' confirming her beliefs and words, but she continued. "As it is, you would not make a move toward me, because I see the intelligence behind the frivolous mask."

He looked at her for a moment, not unlike the way she had looked at him a moment before. "You are very insightful, Andromache. I do believe that you possess more intelligence than the majority of men I know. Your understanding of human nature is extensive, isn't it?"

Andromache smiled slightly and looked at the ground, embarrassed at the compliments. "Hardly, Prince, but you will believe what you will, despite my influence." She looked up at their surroundings, then asked him, "Would you like to see to market? I can truly say that it is one of the best on this side of the Aegean, and I have never left Thebe."

Paris laughed. "Indeed! Please, show me the Theban market. When I return to Troy, I shall boast that the Jewel of Thebe personally guided me through the greatest market in the world."

Andromache laughed in response to this. "You had better, Prince, or I shall be severely disappointed," she warned, deeply amused, as they set out for the market of Thebe.

o0o

By the time the two and their escort had returned to the palace, it was near to dusk and all were exhausted. Both the Prince of Troy and the Princess of Thebe had requested that their attendance at the feast that evening be excused, and their requests had been granted. Both had gone their separate ways, with the promise that Andromache would continue the tour of the city the next day.

Sitting on a small bench before a vanity table, Andromache struggled to remove her hair from its complex configuration. After several moments of painful struggling, Andromache sighed and cried, "Metis!"

A girl of roughly sixteen emerged from a sectioned-off portion of the princess's chambers, an amused look on her face. "Most princesses take the time to learn to manage their hair," she pointed out as she came over.

"I have seven brothers, styling my hair was never a very important task for me to learn," she pointed out.

Metis sighed as she began letting down Andromache's hair. "And now it's too late."

"How so?"

"Wives typically know how to do this sort of thing in advanced. But never fear; I will be going with you."

"Naturally," Andromache said, but her mind was now on her upcoming nuptials. "I don't want to marry him, Metis."

"Of course you don't," Metis replied, as if it were obvious. "Leaving your home is a frightful thing, particularly leaving it to marry someone you've never met."

"Not that. That is a required task in my duty to Thebe. I do not fear marriage, Metis." She twisted around to face the younger woman, a tinge of fear evident in her eyes. "I fear the man I am going to marry."

"Prince Corydon?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Metis asked as she gently took hold of Andromache's shoulders and twisted her back around, resuming her work on the princess' hair. "His reputation is… odd, but a history of violence is not evident."

"That is what I fear," Andromache said quietly, staring at her hands clasped in her lap unseeingly. "He will crush me, Metis. I will lose what little independence is allowed a woman. Not only this, but he has a history that little have heard of. His love for the fruit of the vine is little known, but intense. And he is a violent drunk, they say."

Metis' hands stilled for a moment as she contemplated these words. Being a slave, she knew more truth than most royalty did, simply because the slaves and servants know everything. She knew of the propensity for drunken rages that Corydon of Mytilene had, but she had kept them to herself, in order to protect her mistress. Now, it seemed, that Andromache had known all along.

"I don't want to be crushed, Metis. That is why I fear him."

The slave girl finished her work and placed her hands on the princess' shoulders. "You are a strong woman, Andromache. No man will ever truly suppress you."

"I truly hope you're right, Metis." Andromache stood. "I think I will change and go for a walk."

"Very well. Do you need help changing?"

Andromache smiled and shoved at her confidante and handmaiden playfully. "I may be impossible with my hair, but I am capable of clothing myself."

Metis raised her hands in a gesture of surrender and left as Andromache began changing into a simple burgundy dress. This time, as she made her way to the gardens, she did not take her nephew with her. Instead, she found another bit of dried, old bread, and returned to the pond that her brother had found her at this morning.

As she tossed bits of bread into the water, Andromache let her mind wander. She purposefully kept her engagement from her thoughts, but everything else was subject to her mind. _Prince Paris was not at all what I expected him to be_, she thought, cocking her head to the side as she watched a fish snatch a bloated piece of bread from just under the surface. _He was kind, rather than aloof. Fun. One would have expected the prince of such a great nation to be haughty._

How long she sat there, she didn't know. But the sun was half below the horizon and the sky a gigantic splash of color, ranging from flaming red to deep, deep blue, when she was joined in the gardens once more.

"It seems that we both are attracted to the same places, my lady."

Andromache looked up to see the man she had spoken to the night before gazing at her with an amused look, his arms crossed over his chest. She couldn't help but smile in reply.

"So it does seem," she replied. "Would you like the join me in fattening the fish?"

"I would be honored," he replied gallantly, coming over to sit beside her. He was a tasteful distance away, but close enough to be familiar. Andromache found that, oddly, she didn't mind.

After a few moments of that oddly companionable silence that seemed to mark both of their meetings, Andromache said, "I spend time in this place because I was raised here. This has been a sanctuary for me nearly all of my life. Why do you come here?"

He was silent for a moment, considering his answer. "I suppose I come here for the quiet. At home I would do the same, though it was more often the sea rather than the garden."

"Your life is tumultuous," she commented.

"No more than yours, I would say."

Andromache was not stupid: she knew that women played little more than a decorative and breeding role in the lives of men. For any man to say that a woman's life was tumultuous was something to cause suspicion. What man acknowledged the fact that women did not have an easy role to play. "Why would you say that? I am, after all, a woman," she said, carefully testing him.

He sighed and settled back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. "I have grown up a warrior and commander, and therefore I must have at least a vague understanding of the human mind. Women are severely underestimated in the responsibilities they bear and the strength with which they bear them. Though," he looked to her with a crooked smile, "I highly doubt you need to be informed of that."

The smile she gave in return was rather wry. "Do you really understand a woman's role?"

His look was just as dry. "No. I would not presume to know what it's like, being a woman. Though I have always tried to understand."

Andromache tossed another bit of bread into the water. "You, my friend, are probably the only man in the world to say such a thing." She spared him a glance. "It is an honorable thing."

"Something I have always strived for." He stood and offered a hand to help her up. She looked at his hand, then up at him questionably. "I want you to show me something."

Andromache blinked up at him. "What do you want me to show you?"

"Anything you like. Show me…" He paused, considering, then finished, "Something that you think is the essence of Thebe."

She slowly slipped her fingers into his, and he helped her to her feet. His hand was rough and calloused, quite the contrast to her own soft palm, but gentle. She quickly pushed the traitorous thought away.

"We will have to leave the grounds in order for me to show you," she warned, gently sliding her hand from his. The odd feeling that made her blood hum at the contact was unnerving, she didn't dare subject herself to it for longer than was necessary.

"I am willing to endure it if you are," he replied.

Andromache nodded started towards a side exit in the wall of the garden, hidden away from view. She looked over her shoulder and said with a smile, "I must ask that you not tell anyone I showed you this exit. In all truthfulness, I myself am not supposed to know of it."

He laughed, a sound which was as pleasant to listen to as his voice. It was then that she realized that his voice was, indeed, pleasant to listen to. This discovery was nearly as unnerving as touching him. "You have my silence, my lady."

"And I thank you for it." They slipped through the hidden doorway. She led him quickly and silently away from the palace, to the top of a nearby hill. From its summit, one could see the main part of the city of Thebe, where the people went about their daily lives. She pointed out at the city, at the people who were beginning to pack away their things and go to their homes and families. "There," she said, "is the very soul of Thebe. Those common, everyday people that are simply going about their lives. They say that history remembers kings and warriors. But what does history matter to the merchant selling his wares, or the woman looking after her children? History may remember my father and my brothers, but _I _will remember these people, because they are the heart of Thebe."

Up on that summit, the sun was blazing as it lowered in the sky, dipping further below the horizon with every moment. Though she didn't know it, in the light her auburn locks shone, her skin glowed, and her deep brown eyes glittered. She sighed, a small, content smile on her lips. "They are the reason I am willing to do anything for Thebe." _Even marry the Prince of Mytilene._

At that thought, her smile faltered, and her eyes fell to the ground, clamping her lower lip between her teeth. A hand slid under her chin, lifting her head, and she found herself gazing into her companions eyes. He had the strangest expression in those eyes, an expression she couldn't read for the life of her.

"Your insight," he said after a moment, his voice so quiet that she thought that the wind my pick it up and take it away, "is staggering. I believe you are the first person I have ever met to love a place for its people rather than its greatness."

She was struggling to breathe, and thus her voice was equally quiet. "Thebe is my home."

"It is," he agreed. "May your next location find such a place in your heart. Should it do so, it will be a great place, indeed."

Andromache couldn't tell how long they stood there, gazing at each other on the top of that hill. But after an untold amount of time, he suddenly straightened and dropped his hand to his side. "We must return," he said, offering his arm.

Andromache nodded shakily, resting her palm on his arm, and they made their way back to the palace. _What happened?_ she wondered. So lost was she in her thoughts that she never realized that they had reentered the gardens of the palace until her companion turned to her, taking her hand and kissing it.

"I must go," he said quietly. "I am expected. May I see you tomorrow?"

_No,_ her mind said. She knew that it was wrong. She didn't even know his name! She was not only a maiden, but a betrothed one; it was entirely improper for her to be having secret meetings with a man she did not even know the name of.

But in her heart, she knew she couldn't tell him no.

"Yes. Meet me near the pond. After sunset."

He smiled at her, and her breath caught in her throat. He raised her hand to his lips again, and said, "Until tomorrow, my lady."

She nodded and watched as he turned and left. _What have I gotten myself into?_


	3. True Identities

**A/N: Wow, these chapters are coming out fast! This makes me very happy. I'm sure it makes everyone else happy, too, for that matter…**

**Anywho, please remember to tell me what you think!**

**_Chapter Three  
True Identities_**

o0o

_"Andromache!"_

With a moan of displeasure, the princess in question rolled over in her bed, hauling her blankets up over her head in order to stifle the incessant pounding on her door. "Go away," she muttered into her pillow.

"Andromache, I need your help!"

With an irritated noise, she flung the blankets off in time to see Metis walking out of her chambers sleepily. From the darkness of her room, Andromache knew that the sun had hardly begun to rise. This only served to annoy her further. "Back to bed, Metis," she said, her voice pitched low as she glared at the door. "I will take care of this."

Metis nodded and wandered back into her chambers as Andromache stumbled out of bed and went over to the door. She jerked it open and glared out at her brother. "If the sun is not awake, _I _am not awake, Demos."

"Yes, but my son is very much awake."

She sighed. "Haven't you learned to control your son yet?"

"How is it my fault that he only listens to you?" her second oldest brother demanded.

Andromache sighed, raising her eyes towards the heavens and begging for patience.

"I personally will see to it that, should you wish to sleep all day, no one will stop you. Not even Father."

It struck her that this could come in quite useful, and so she eyes him suspiciously. "No one will stop me? No one at all?"

"No one. You may sleep for seven days if you wish."

"Done," she said firmly before her brother could take back his words. "Where is Alcander?"

"In his nursery."

Andromache heaved a sigh and led the way down the corridor at a brisk pace. The nursery wasn't far, thus it wasn't long before she heard the four-year-old boy's screams. She raised her eyebrows and looked back at her brother. "What did you do to him?" she asked.

Demos raised his hands. "I did nothing!"

"That, my dear brother, is doubtful." She fixed him with a firm look. "You should take more time to spend with your child. Then you would not be summoning me."

"Andromache, my wife is sick and I am bewildered. Please save your lectures for later."

"I will save my lectures, but you will hear them, I promise you."

"Oh, joyous occasion," he said sarcastically.

Andromache couldn't find it in her heart to blame him: her lectures were infamous, even to the point of earning the nickname 'Mother,' from her brothers. They didn't mind the lectures so much, which they reminded her of every time she grew irritated by the nickname they had given her.

The princess gave her brother a firm look before pushing open the door to the nursery. The wailing suddenly increased in volume dramatically, and Andromache jammed her hands onto her hips, glaring at the source of the crying. "Alcander!" she snapped, albeit rather gently. "That is enough!"

The boy paused in order to see if it truly was his aunt who had entered the room. Upon seeing that it was, he jabbed his lip out and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her. Andromache, however, did not fall before him and beg him not to cry any more, as his poor mother had. Andromache stood in his doorway, tall and imposing, like Athena, the goddess of war and wisdom, personified. Suddenly, Alcander wished that he hadn't made such a fuss.

"How many times, Alcander," Andromache scolded, "have I told you to listen to your parents? The fact that your father had to ask me for help is appalling. You have embarrassed me, Alcander." The boy lowered his head and glowered at the floor, but at least he began to look ashamed. "Your father is a very busy man, and needs his sleep. You have prevented that. Worse, your mother is ill, and needs all the rest she can. How long did she stay in here, begging you to behave? Your mother should not have to beg you to behave, Alcander, especially when she is sick. You have behaved very, very badly."

Alcander sniffled, but he wasn't glowering anymore.

"Have you anything to say in defense of your actions?"

Now the boy was outright repentant, and Andromache marked it as progress. He shook his head.

"No defense? No excuses?"

"No," he said sulkily.

"Then should you not give your apologies?"

"I'm sorry, Amdroche," he muttered.

"I accept your apology, but I am not the one who should be receiving it." Andromache looked back at her brother and motioned him to come forward. Hesitantly, he did as his sister requested as Alcander slid off the bed he had been sitting on and came forward to speak to his father.

"I'm sorry for yelling," the boy said. "I only wanted you to stay."

Andromache looked at her brother in alarm, who was crouched on the floor to be at the same level as his son. Demos had a grim look on his face as he cradled Alcander to him and said up to his sister, "Father believes that Mytilene is backing out of out of the peace agreement. He has asked that Alexander and I go see if the reports are true."

"Mytilene?" she asked, her stomach jerked uncomfortably. "But they can't- The marriage-"

"They can, Andromache," he said quietly. "And they will, if they find cause."

"Will they back out of the marriage agreement?" For all her loathing of the betrothal, Andromache knew that the engagement was the only thing that would possibly keep Mytilene from attacking Thebe. She also knew that in a war against Mytilene, Thebe would more than likely not survive on her own.

"You know as well as I, sister," he said, reaching for her hand. She slipped her suddenly cold fingers into his.

"What cause could they find to attack us? Demos…" She flailed her free hand, as if the motion would fill in the words that she couldn't seem to find. "There has to be _something _that we can do to prevent an attack."

Demos hoisted his son onto his hip and stood. He placed a gentle, reassuring hand on her shoulder. "At this very moment, there is very little we can so, simply because we have no way of knowing if the danger is real. But until we're positive…" He looked hesitant to continue, but at her insistent look, he said, "You are the only one who can protect us, Andromache."

She blanched. _"What?"_

"The entire world, particularly Mytilene, will be watching you. One misstep, and Mytilene-"

"Will declare war," she finished faintly. Her brother winced.

"I don't want to burden you, Andromache-"

Andromache looked up at him, her expression suddenly firm and assured. "It's for the best," she said confidently. "This way I may ensure that I do nothing that will bring harm to Thebe."

This did not alleviate her brother's distress, as she had intended it to. If anything, it intensified it. "Andromache, you should not have to worry yourself over the folly of men-"

She smiled at him and patted his cheek. "What do you think the role of a woman is, Demos? I can cope with this, brother. Don't worry yourself over me." She rose up on her toes and kissed her brother's cheek, then ruffled her nephew's hair. "I hope you remember to apologize to your mother, as well, Alcander. She _is _ill."

"I will," the boy promised, and she smiled and kissed his cheek before leaving the room, returning to her own.

When she was safely barred behind her doors, she sat down on the bench before the vanity and lowered her face into violently shaking hands. Why would Mytilene declare war on Thebe? What could possibly cause a nation with such military strength to declare war on a militarily weak nation such as Thebe? Andromache's home was no threat to anyone; Thebe was a trading country, whose strength was its economy. What purpose could Thebe possibly serve?

Then she realized it: gold. With such a powerful economy, Thebe was a wealthy, if not militant, nation. But then, why would Mytilene threaten war when one of its princes was about to marry the only princess of Thebe? None of it made any sense, none at all.

Andromache straightened, forcing herself to see reason. There was no immediate threat, only suspicions. And if she accused Mytilene of such things without affirmable cause, then she would truly give Mytilene to attack her home. So she pushed the thought away with the resolution that she would maintain her best behavior, taking care to offend no one from another nation, from Cloris of Lampsascus to the Trojan princes to Corydon of Mytilene.

It was with that thought in mind that she began readying herself for another day. Of course, she couldn't completely banish the fear, and so she tucked it away, stubbornly refusing to see just how great the danger to Thebe could become.

o0o

That afternoon, Demos' wife's condition took a turn for the worse. Because her husband was forced to attend a lengthy council meeting on the new turns the negotiations with Mytilene had developed, Andromache spent the entire afternoon by Callidora's side, speaking to her sister-in-law of everything and nothing.

It was a painful thing. The woman had always been as thin and frail as Andromache herself, though it was easier for the slightly older woman to bear children than it would be for Andromache. Now, however, she was ravaged by illness, and it showed. Her eyes were near to lifeless, and her general appearance was cadaverous. Callidora had become a very dear friend over her years in Thebe, and now it appeared that she was being taken away all too soon.

By sunset, Demos had returned, and Andromache left in order to give them privacy. She knew it was difficult for her brother to see his wife so weak, and she wanted to give them all the time they could have together.

In truth, she had very much forgotten about her arrangement to meet her Unknown, as she had come to call him. It was by a mere stroke of luck, or perhaps fate, that led her to the pond not long after the sun had gone to bed. As it was, she was taken by complete surprise when a now-familiar voice said, "We meet again. At least this time it was arranged."

Andromache's head flew up and found her Unknown, seated leisurely on a bench near the pond, watching her idly. "Indeed," she said after an instant's hesitation.

His brows knitted together and he stood, walking over to stand directly before her. He watched her face for a moment, a concerned frown on his face. "Something is bothering you."

_Why am I so transparent? _her mind wailed, but her face was calm. "No," she said. "I'm perfectly all right." Andromache flashed him a smile and began to wander away from the open area the pond was in, more toward the trees that were closer to the back of the garden.

"You're bluffing," he said as he followed her. She stopped and turned, leaning against a tree as he made his way towards her at a leisurely pace. "I may not know you well, but I know that much."

Andromache looked away. "Am I really so obvious?"

"Only to me, I assure you."

The smile she gave him was a wry one. "A rather ironic statement, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed." He stepped forward again until he was hardly a foot from her. "Now, tell me. What is it that's troubling you?"

She looked away again and folded her arms about herself tightly, as if to shield herself from the distress that the thoughts brought. "Have you ever watched someone dear to you waste away into nothing before your very eyes?"

For a moment, all that was heard was the slight breeze as it whispered through the trees. Then he said, "No, I haven't."

"I pray that you never will. My brother's wife is ill. Desperately so. The general fear is that she will not recover." Andromache blinked as her eyes began to burn and blur. "She is a very dear friend of mine, yes, but she also has three children, the youngest a little girl no older than three summers." She stopped in order to regain control over her voice, which had begun to waver.

"A horrible thing," he murmured. After another moment's silence, he asked, "Would you show me something else?"

Andromache nodded, hoping for a distraction. "Yes. What would you like to see?"

"The temple district, if you don't mind."

An odd request, to be sure, but Andromache wasn't about to refuse. She nodded and said, "Come with me. I suggest we go through this side exit once more."

"You lead, I will follow."

This was one of the oddest things he had said to her yet, and she turned to stare at him. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes?"

Andromache shook her head. "Nothing." She grabbed his hand and towed him along behind her. Within moments, they were in the temple district - the district was right before the palace. Her Unknown reclaimed his hand when she slowed to a stop and began moving towards a particular temple.

"This is the temple of Apollo?" he asked her.

She nodded. "It is."

Now it was he who grabbed her hand. "Come with me," he said gently, propelling her up the steps and into the temple. "We are going to pray for your brother's wife."

o0o

For the next four days, Andromache met her Unknown in the garden after sunset. Twice they went to Apollo's temple to pray for Callidora's health after that first time. When they weren't praying, they spoke of everything - at least, everything that gave away nothing referring to identity: anonymity seemed to be the unspoken rule of their meetings. Oddly, Andromache didn't mind in the least.

One night, she took Andreas, already sleeping soundly, with her, simply to spend time with her nephew, even if he wasn't awake. Another night, her Unknown had introduced her to his horse, which he had found quite humorous.

"He is gigantic," she had said flatly, eyeing the animal with apprehension.

Her Unknown's struggle to withhold his amusement was clear. "He's actually rather small for a horse," he informed her.

Andromache's stare had been incredulous. "They get _bigger_?" she cried, and he laughed outright.

"Yes, they get bigger." He held out a hand to her. "Come here."

The look she gave him suggested that she thought he had lost his sanity.

"You have nothing to fear," he insisted. "Come here."

Hesitantly, Andromache slipped her hand into his, and he gently pulled her forward. He stepped behind her, placing Andromache between himself and the horse. "It's all right," he said comfortingly. "He may seem quite large, but Eros is really quite docile."

She couldn't help the amused smile that caused her lips to curve upward. "_Eros_?" she enquired, twisting and looking over her shoulder to look at him.

His own smile portrayed not a bit of embarrassment. "My mother named him."

"I see." Andromache turned back to the large, chestnut-hued animal before her. "I have grown up around men all my life, but I have rarely stepped foot in the stables," she commented after a moment.

"How is that possible?" he murmured, reaching around her and stroking the beast's neck. It occurred to her that this horse was very dear to her Unknown, possibly as dear to her as her nephew was.

"My brothers were very protective when I was younger. They have improved, to give them credit, but for many years I did nothing that my endanger myself in any way."

"I see. I suppose I cannot blame them, though I also cannot help but feel that you were mistreated as a child."

She laughed, and she felt him smile in return. Then, suddenly, his hand was on hers. "Here, my lady. Let me assist you."

He placed her hand on the horse's neck and guided her in petting Eros. This continued for several moments, during which it was oddly difficult for Andromache to breathe. Then he pulled away, stepping to the side and placing his shoulder under the horse's chin. "There," he said with a smile. "Is that so terrible?"

"Don't poke fun at me," she warned. "This is the first time I've been this close to a horse since I was my nephew's age."

He smiled and shook his head. "Mistreated girl," he muttered, and she laughed.

Not long after that, he had suggested that he escort her back to her chambers, which she agreed to. That night, she had decided that those meetings with her Unknown were her time of peace in her days. True, her days were not exactly difficult, but they were chaotic at times; her time with her Unknown came with the promise of peace and enjoyment.

She never expected those days to end so disappointingly quickly.

o0o

The day Corydon of Mytilene arrived, her brother Demos had already left along with their oldest brother, Alexander, and Andromache was spending time with Cloris. "I do believe, my friend, that these fish are quite tired of bread," the princess of Thebe commented. It was only an hour or so after noon, and the two young women were sitting by the pond, tossing breadcrumbs.

"I agree," Cloris said, tilting her head and peering at the bread in the water. "The last eight pieces I've thrown are still there."

Andromache tilted her head as well, surveying the water. "I believe seven of mine are there." She paused, and then corrected, "No. I have eight as well."

"Princess Andromache!"

They both turned to find Metis, looking quite flustered, rush up to them, bow quickly, then say breathlessly, "Prince Corydon is here! You must change, Princess-"

Andromache sent Cloris a serene smile. "I apologize, but it seems that my betrothed has arrived. I must go greet him."

Cloris nodded. "Of course."

Andromache stood and walked back to the palace. Once she was out of sight, however, she broke into a run. Metis was only a step behind. "I have already laid out the pale green silk," her handmaiden said as they rushed into Andromache's chambers. "Go wash your face while I find all the necessary pins."

Rather than being irritated at being ordered by a slave, Andromache fell into the usual rhythm that the two of them adopted when the princess had to be ready very quickly for a state affair. Within moments, Andromache was washed and changed, and Metis was placing the veil over her head and pinning it in place discreetly.

Within another five minutes, Andromache was at her father's side, and the Prince of Mytilene was mounting the steps to the palace. He was of an average stature, with mouse brown hair and mud-brown eyes. Not exactly attractive, to be sure, but passable, as far as vanity went. But the haughty look in his eyes did not escape the Theban princess, and she felt her stomach jerk anxiously.

"Prince Corydon," Eetion greeted, clasping the much younger man's forearm in greeting. "We are honored to have your presence."

"And I am honored to give it, I assure you."

"Please, Prince, may I introduce to you my wife, Anatola?"

Andromache's mother stepped forward regally and inclined her head, appearing as an empress even in subordination. Prince Corydon simply nodded in return, then looked to Andromache, who felt a stab of annoyance on behalf of her mother.

"This, Prince, is my daughter, Andromache."

"My betrothed?" Corydon asked, not taking his eyes from Andromache, who met his gaze levelly.

"Yes."

The prince raised another step in order to be level with Andromache and surveyed her blatantly, assessing her. "Impressive, Eetion," he said finally, turning to the King of Thebe with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Very impressive."

"I'm glad you think so," Eetion replied, casting a quick glance at Andromache, who shook her head slightly. She had expected such treatment from the Prince of Mytilene. "Come," Eetion said, gesturing to the palace. "Let us go indoors. The sun is hot, and I am not as young as I once was. Anatola, Andromache, you may leave us."

Both women nodded their heads respectfully and made their way to a side entrance. Once out of sight, Anatola took her daughter's hand. "I am sorry, Andromache," she whispered. "I did not want you to marry him. Neither did your father. We had no choice-"

"I know, Mother." She smiled, forcing a brave front for her mother's sake and gripping Anatola's hand in both of her own. "Don't fret. I will endure, I promise you."

The older woman's eyes were over bright as she sighed and cupped her daughter's cheek in one hand. "Oh, my poor daughter," she breathed. "No. You won't."

o0o

The next several hours was spent, by turns, with her family, Cloris, and Corydon. She was never with Corydon alone, for which she was thankful - she feared that she wouldn't be able to make even a passable conversation with only herself and her betrothed. Eventually, however (though not soon enough by her standards), it was time to prepare for the welcoming banquet. All of the guests would be attending, and it would be the largest banquet yet, celebrating all of the visiting royalty.

Andromache wore an under gown of deep blue, and an over gown of deep violet, with gold jewelry and a gold accented, deep blue veil. Corydon, however, wore a vibrant red shade that made one automatically think of fresh blood. The festivities were already in progress by the time they entered the hall.

They were received by great applause, and Andromache responded by instinct, smiling and nodding to the people who waved and applauded and cheered. Corydon, however, was haughty, acting as if the applause they received was nothing more than expected. This dampened her mood significantly, but she refused to display it.

"Princess Andromache, Prince Corydon," a voice said in greeting, and they turned to see Prince Paris of Troy beaming at them.

"Good evening, Prince Paris," Andromache said congenially, truly happy to see someone she knew she could speak with.

"Good evening to the both of you. Princess, I have finally managed to find the brother you have yet to meet."

"I would love to finally do so," she replied.

"Wonderful! Princess Andromache, this is my brother, the renowned Prince Hector." Paris reached back and dragged someone forward. "Prince Hector, this is the Jewel of Thebe herself, Princess Andromache."

The smile fell from her face as her heart thudded to a stop:

_She was looking into the face of her Unknown._


	4. Misgivings and Assurances

**A/N: Things kinda start to get a little more risky for our dear Andromache in this chapter. I hope you like it, it was a buttto write! Thank you all so much for your reviews! They really mean a lotto me, as sappy and sentimental as itsounds. Hugs to all!**

**_Chapter Four  
Misgivings andAssurances_**

o0o

It was quite late before the banquet was through, but Andromache found that she was not at all tired. If anything, she was energized. Through the whole of the festivities, her heart had been hammering and her chest tight, her breathing difficult. No one had known, of course. Her mother had suspected, but no one had known.

Unfortunately, she had made the mistake of going into the place where she felt the most peaceful: the gardens. She had forgotten that her former "Unknown," knew that she would attempt to find refuge there.

She was standing at the very edge of the orchard, still in her formal clothing, gazing into the darkness that surrounded the trees. She had never felt so incredibly simple-minded in her life: her dear _Unknown_ had been the oldest prince of one of the strongest nations in the known world!

"I knew you would be here."

She turned at the familiar voice, but she did not smile at the sound of it, as she had grown accustomed to. "I do not wish to speak to you, your highness," she said coldly, turning back around and heading into the orchard, hoping he would leave her be.

Later she would realize that she should have known better.

"Andromache, please-"

She whirled around. By this time, they were far enough into the orchard for a faint light to be cast, but they were out of general sight: no one would know they were there unless that person was searching for them. _"You never told me!" _she snarled. "Nothing will ever be the same again!"

"Why can they not be the same?" Prince Hector demanded.

"Everything has changed, _Prince Hector_!" Andromache couldn't completely manage to hide the betrayal that settled itself, like a cloud, over her features. "This can no longer be blamed on the trivial idiosyncrasies of a Theban princess!"

"It ever could be?" She made to turn around and walk away, but he grabbed her arm, preventing her escape. "Andromache, listen to me."

Despite herself, she stopped struggling and looked up at him, angry betrayal blazing on her features. "Speak," she commanded. "I'll not have the patience to listen for long."

"I realize," he said, "that I should have told you. But what would I have said? And, not to shift the blame, but you said never said anything, either."

"You say that as if you never knew who I was," she said darkly.

"I had an idea," he admitted. "But I never knew."

She pulled her arm out of his grasp and walked a couple of steps away, putting her hands to her head. Then she whirled to face him. "Do you realize what has happened?"

"No, Andromache. I can find no change, other than that we now may call each other by name."

"The change, Prince," she raged, "is that _we are each of us betrothed_!"

Comprehension dawned on his face. "You're afraid that we'll be found out."

"This can't continue," she said, turning to walk back toward the palace.

Hector reached out to grab her arm again, stopping her. "Andromache-"

The look she gave him stopped his words, and he released her, stepping away. "This can't continue," she repeated, and with that she turned away and went directly to her chambers.

She didn't allow herself to cry until she was safely tucked under her blankets.

o0o

The next morning dawned bright and clear, and with it Andromache was given new decision. Her tears the night before, she resolved, had been wasted. She never really knew the man, after all, and it wasn't at all condoned, being alone with a man who was not a direct relative, her betrothed, or her husband. Particularly for such a length of time.

As it was, clearly his regard for her was not at all high, otherwise he would have told her who he was in the beginning. He had deliberately avoided her question as to whether he was with the envoy from Troy! Yes, she had made the right decision in resolving to stay away from him.

Within the next hour, she was on her betrothed's arm as they wandered through the gardens. Prince Paris was on Corydon's other side, and on his arm was Cloris. Cloris' betrothed was no where in sight, for which Andromache was thankful.

"They say that the harvest celebrations are near at hand, Andromache," Cloris commented as the strolled leisurely through the well-landscaped foliage. "Will they be soon enough for us all to be involved?"

"Within the month, I should say. The harvest is almost through, and then the farmers take three days to rest. Then the celebrations begin," she replied.

"I trust we will all still be here within the month?" Paris asked, his brows raised as he grinned at them all. Corydon's own smile was small and rather aloof.

"I do believe we will. I would like to see the quaintest of all Thebe's rituals."

Andromache smiled, but inwardly wanted nothing more than to shove him over into a conveniently placed pond; Thebe was her _home_, and its rituals were hardly _quaint_.

_He is simply unfamiliar with our customs, _she told herself. _Give him time to adjust; he will learn to love them as you do._

Somehow, she couldn't convince herself.

o0o

"Would you be offended if I were to be bluntly honest, Princess?" Paris asked as they wandered the dusty streets of the market. Their afternoon with Cloris and Corydon had been called short due to negotiation meetings that Corydon had to attend. Paris had commented that his brother Hector would be there as well, but Andromache had struggled not to think of the older Prince of Troy.

Cloris had resigned her company in order to go lie down and rest, and so Andromache and Paris were left to themselves. They had resumed their tour of Thebe, and until that moment had been walking in congenial silence, with the occasional break in the quiet by Andromache as she explained or pointed something out.

"Since it is you, no," she replied, assuming that whatever he would say would not be too terribly disconcerting.

"It seemed to me," he hesitated a bit, then said, "that you knew my brother before I introduced you to him."

Andromache's stomach gave a nervous jerk, but outwardly she laughed. "How would you have gathered that idea, pray tell?"

"The look in your eyes when I brought him forward. You knew him, but you didn't know his name until I told you." It was a struggle not to betray her anxiety, but somehow she managed to control her fears as Paris asked, "Where have you met my brother, dear Andromache?"

"I could ask you the same question!" she countered with a laugh, as if she found the whole conversation amusing. "You saw it just as plainly as I; you introduced us, in fact. As it is," she said, sober now, "would it not be indecent for me to have met him before, when clearly no one introduced us?"

"I would never mention it, naturally," Paris said quietly. Andromache looked away with a sigh.

"You are one of the few who would, Prince." She looked down at the ground, then up at the people rushing through the market, shouting about wares, goods, and their prices and exchanging news between friends and family members. Suddenly, she longed to be just like them, with no political duties on their shoulders, merely the ordinary everyday duties that every human has. "I am very much afraid that even out meetings, chaperoned as they are, will cause a fuss. A small one, true, but a fuss all the same."

"You are completely under his thumb, aren't you?"

This caused her to look at him, surprised. "What?"

"Corydon," he explained.

Andromache's eyes fell to the ground and she swallowed. "Yes," she whispered. There was a heavy silence, and then she looked back up at Paris with a smile. "No need to worry, though. I will endure. This is, after all, to protect Thebe."

"It is?" The prince looked genuinely confused.

"Yes. Our military leaves much to be desired; after the time of Queen Ophelia, our army declined and our economy and stress on the arts increased. Mytilene is a strong nation."

"Troy will protect you," he said, grabbing her other hand and looking at her earnestly. It was then that she realized that she had become a strange sort of friend to the younger Prince of Troy; even more strange, she realized that he had become the same to her. "I've met Corydon, and I've seen him with you. He would destroy any woman. He will crush you, slowly."

"Don't worry yourself over me, Prince of Troy," she said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I am the youngest child of a small nation's king, and a woman. To worry over me is below you."

He looked angry, "If you truly believe-"

Andromache laughed. "I was teasing, Paris!" she cried, and he glowered at her. "Don't fret, please. I will endure."

He sighed and nodded, but the look on his face proved that he either couldn't or wouldn't believe her. This was really no surprise, as she was beginning to not believe herself. Then he forced a smile for her. "Let us return."

Andromache nodded, and they turned around and headed back toward the palace. It was a long, comfortably silent walk, and for the larger part of it Andromache thought of her mother's, and now Paris', words. Both of them suggested that Corydon would destroy her - this was not a comforting thought. The idea that her history with Prince Hector of Troy, however short it may have been, would get out was just as unsettling a thought as the previous.

_I must be very, very careful, _she thought as they mounted the steps. She looked up and saw Cloris and Corydon, accompanied by Andromache's father and favorite brother, Erastus, and she struggled to keep back the sigh of frustration. She only wanted to be alone!

_I must be cautious._

o0o

"I hate him, Andromache! _I hate him_!"

"Erastus, please!"

"The way he treated you this evening-"

"There is nothing for it!" she cried, flinging herself at her brother and latching onto his arm. "You can't say that you didn't expect it. I myself expected worse!"

This did not, at all, placate her brother. "_Worse_?" he roared, pulling out of her grasp and resuming his pacing. "If he was any _worse_, Andromache, he would have _struck _you!"

"Erastus, you aren't thinking! We need this alliance, you know this! Marriage is the only way!"

"Why _him_? There are other princes! I would be willing to settle for the younger prince of Troy before that Mytilene rat!"

Andromache clenched her fists, her eyes darkening. She could tolerate that her brother was upset. But when he started this tirade, one she had heard time and time again, about the other princes of the world and how they all would make better husbands for her, it only reminded her of just how horribly things could become, and most likely _would _be come. She thought of it often enough on her own, and did _not _appreciate her brother reminding her of it, even if it was unintentional.

"Enough!" she snapped. "Whether either of us want it to occur or not, I am betrothed the Corydon of Mytilene! Did Alexander and Demos not tell you of what might happen? Were you misinformed at the council's gatherings? This marriage will prevent a war that we _cannot win_! You may hate him all you wish, but you may _not _make things worse for us all by marching on to these tirades! You can either help me through this, or you can wash your hands of it, I haven't a care, but _stop making this situation worse_!"

With that, she turned and marched out of her brother's chambers. As she left, she came across his wife, Megara, who was bearing young Andreas. "Perhaps you have the ability to reason with your husband," she said abruptly, though her tone was not nearly so sharp as it had been with Erastus.

Megara sighed. "I will speak with him, Andromache. He will be repentant within two hours."

"I will not be, however. Do not send him to speak to me tonight, I may end up doing something we would all regret."

The older woman smiled and kissed Andromache's cheek. "I will keep this in mind. Go calm yourself, dear. Leave your brother to me."

Andromache nodded and began to head for her chambers. But not far from where her brother and his family slept, she stopped, leaned against the cold stone wall, and began to silently weep. She wept for everything, including her brothers, who all hated this union and could do nothing for it; for the people of Thebe, who would pay the ultimate price if she did not follow through; and out of fear of her future husband and what he could, and would, do to her.

After a few moments, she had calmed herself sufficiently, and went to seek the comfort of the gardens. She wandered them listlessly, thinking of her situation.

Erastus' marriage was a happy one, a truly unique union that had begun in arrangement and anger and had somehow, somewhere along the way, turned to the fiercest love she had ever seen. Megara was as much a part of Erastus as Erastus was to her; each life seemed to revolve around the other. They each performed their own duties, of course, and they both were marvelous at the intense yet subtle political battles that took place nearly every day of a royal's life; but their love was the strongest she had ever seen.

It was something she had always secretly longed for, but also something she could never have. Her fate was sealed the day Mytilene offered peace and protection in exchange for the sole Theban princess, and she knew that she would not change it: she would do anything to protect her family and her country. As much as she loathed it, even as she mourned the loss of her secret dream, she had resigned herself to her fate.

As soon as she stepped foot in the clearing, she knew that she wasn't alone: there, on the bench, sat Prince Hector of Troy. She stopped and looked at him, and he simply stared right back at her. After a moment, he gave her a weak smile. She looked away.

How long they stood there, she couldn't tell. But eventually he stood and slowly walked towards her. "Would you walk with me?"

Andromache looked at him, knowing full well what her answer should have been: an emphatic 'no.' Even standing there, at opposite ends of a clearing, was dangerous, particularly when her betrothed was in the palace not a hundred yards away.

She closed her eyes and nodded. When she reopened them, he was closer, and he was smiling again. It was stronger this time. He offered his arm, which she took, and the proceeded further into the gardens, where they would be farther from view.

After several moments, he stopped and turned toward her. "All right," he said. "What is it?"

She blinked up at him. "What?"

"Something is bothering you again," he said. "Perhaps it is me, and who I turned out to be, and if it is, I apologize."

"It isn't."

"Then what?"

She looked down at her hands, which were wringing about themselves. "I spoke with your brother today."

"Yes, I know," Hector said rather slowly, as if he was unsure as to how it pertained to his query.

"He seems to agree with my mother, and my brothers. And my father, to some extent." Prince Hector simply looked at her, his question evident in his gaze. "My betrothed," he explained.

Comprehension dawned on his face, as well as caution. "I see."

"Have you met Prince Corydon?"  
"I have," he replied. "You were present on one occasion."

"And what is your assessment?"

The elder Prince of Troy looked suddenly quite guarded. "I have no place to say a word-"

"No, truly," Andromache insisted. "What do you think of him?"

"I don't know him well enough to pass any form of judgment," he said, almost cautiously.

Andromache looked at the ground as she folded her arms about herself tightly. "You needn't worry about offending me," she said quietly. "My brothers feel no qualms in informing me of exactly what they think of my betrothed. The concern of one is the concern of all who have spoken to me."

It seemed as if he did not want to ask. Andromache could sense his misgivings, but there was also sympathy there. Not pity, but sympathy, for which she was grateful, but she couldn't help being a bit confused by it. After a moment of nothing but the night-sounds of insects, he asked cautiously, "What is the general concern, Princess?"

Her eyes slid closed as the now-familiar sense of fear washed over her. She began to shake slightly, and not at all from the chill that had begun to permeate the night air. Andromache took a couple of steps away and said in a near-broken voice, "That he will crush me."

Prince Hector, apparently, had no response to that. He did not move nor speak, and Andromache wrapped her arms about herself tighter. "I have done my best," she said in a slightly stronger voice, "to portray nothing but assurance, but I fear that my confidence is beginning to waver. I have always forced myself to hide fear - with seven brothers, it is wise to conceal the fact that you are afraid. But I do not believe that I will be able to hide it much longer." She turned back to him and met his eyes. In his eyes were a mixture of emotions, ranging from sympathy to sadness. In fact, if anything, he looked _tormented_. But it made no sense to her emotionally over-exerted mind - indeed, it probably would have mystified her even if she had been thinking clearly. "I am terrified of the Prince of Mytilene."

Prince Hector walked forward then and placed both of his large, calloused hands on her shoulders. "Your fear," he said firmly, meeting her eyes intensely, "is a valid one. I cannot claim to understand what you are facing now, but I can say that your concern is not misplaced. I, however, see something that you are doubtless to overlook. It is in your nature to overlook it." His grip on her shoulders tightened slightly as he leaned a bit closer. "You," Hector said, quietly fierce, "are far too strong to be overpowered by one man, particularly one so weak as Corydon of Mytilene. I know of his reputation, and I have met him, and I have seen him held prisoner by intoxication, and I still believe that you are much stronger than he could ever hope to be. It will be difficult, and believe me when I say that I would spare you of it if I had the power to. However, I am confident that you will endure, simply because, when compared to your strength, he is nothing, Andromache."

The silence was a profound one. Then he straightened and took a step back. Slowly, Andromache began to smile at him. "That," she said, "is probably the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me in my life. I do hope you meant it."

He laughed. "Every word, I swear!" He offered his arm again, and they resumed their walk. This time, the mood was much lighter. "Now, Princess," Hector said, his voice teasingly sly, "you must tell me of everything that my brother has told you of me. We must separate fact from fiction. I will tell you now, the story about me dropping him from the highest balcony is only partially true. It was the battlements, and it was completely an accident."

Andromache laughed and replied, "Perhaps the fall addled his memory, because he has mentioned nothing."

"Of course!" he cried. "The one time I expect him to have said something, he has said nothing, and I condemn myself."

Their evening continued for much later than was intended. When Hector finally escorted her back to her chambers, she was exhausted - the time between lying down on the bed and falling asleep was a very short one.

She would not realize until later that that was the night she began to fall in love with the Prince of Troy.


	5. A Taste of the Future

**A/N: I have the general feeling that this will be everyone's least favorite chapter. It's certainly my least favorite. So far, at least. But things will get much better in the next chapter, I promise.**

**_Chapter Five  
A Taste of the Future_**  
o0o

Over the next couple of days, Andromache's life developed a sort of routine. She would spend her early mornings with her brothers' children; her midday meals and afternoons with Cloris, Paris, and Corydon, or her family, by turns; her evenings either alone or with the aforementioned people; and her late evenings with Hector. During those two days, the Princess of Thebe and the Prince of Hector, already close thanks to the meetings before they each knew who the other was, grew closer; soon, Andromache felt comfortable telling him anything, and she believed that he felt the same way.

The problem of Prince Corydon became no easier to face; if anything, it became more difficult as he grew progressively more rude, colder, more arrogant. _He only misses his home, _was the mantra Andromache repeated to herself time and time again, but she could never bring herself to believe it.

Erastus was no better than he had been, he was simply better at hiding it. As Megara had promised, he had been repentant quickly, but his remorse had been for upsetting Andromache, not for his words. Andromache could accept this as a sister, but not as a princess, and told him so. He had taken it well, telling her that he expected no less, so long as she wasn't angry with him anymore. Erastus had reminded her so much of his son when the boy was upset that she had smiled and hugged him, assuring her brother that, no, she was not angry anymore. She simply couldn't condone his words as a princess.

Alexander and Demos had returned the day after she had learned of Hector's true identity. This had been an unusually short journey, and so she questioned her oldest brother.

"You were not gone long," Andromache had pointed out.

"For which I am thankful."

"But what does it mean?"

Alexander had sighed and slipped an arm around her shoulders. "It means that Mytilian encampments were found roughly fifteen miles from the city."

As she sat by the fish pond, Andromache closed her eyes against the memory of that conversation. Her caution had to be doubled: _she could not offend the Prince of Mytilene in any way. _The idea that her country's survival depended solely on her was incredibly frightening, but she had kept it tucked away throughout the rest of that day, and what had progressed of this day. The longer she was around Corydon, however, the more difficult it was to hide her anxiety.

The affect on her was an odd one: she jumped at sudden noises and movements, could not hold still, ate next to nothing, drank nothing but water, and watched Corydon constantly from the corners of her eyes. It became more and more difficult, however, to pretend to be at ease when she was so afraid of doing something that might bring harm to her country, and it began to show.

"Princess Andromache, that this the third time you have thrown perfectly good bread into the water," Corydon said condescendingly. Andromache ducked her head.

"I apologize," she murmured.

"That," the prince continued, "is a rather wasteful practice, don't you think, Prince Paris?"

Corydon looked to the Prince of Troy, and while he wasn't looking, Andromache nodded her head empathically to Paris. _Please, simply agree with him!_

Paris gave her a slightly odd look, which only Andromache herself noticed, and nodded to Corydon. "Yes," he said. "Very wasteful, indeed."

"It's settled them." Corydon looked to her and said, "You must not participate in such a wasteful practice again."

"But, my lord, we always use old bread-"

"Never again," Corydon stated, and Andromache fell silent.

"She is not your wife yet, Prince of Mytilene," Othello, her youngest brother, said icily.

Her head shot up, and when she saw that Corydon had turned his attention from her, she shook her head desperately. _'Don't argue with him!' _she mouthed, but Othello was not watching her.

"She will be my wife soon, Prince of Thebe," Corydon countered with an arrogant smirk. "I would like her to practice following my command now so that our married life may be peaceful in Mytilene."

"Andromache is not a slave," Othello said dangerously, and his sister threw him a panicked look.

"No," Corydon agreed. "She is a woman." His unspoken words were, _She is lower than a slave._

"Prince Corydon," Paris said suddenly, and Andromache's bones nearly melted with relief. "Let us go have discussions without the influence of women, shall we?"

It occurred to her that Paris was a wonderful play-actor. He copied a subdued version of Corydon's male arrogance that she almost believed him. But then she remembered that she knew better than to believe that, and cast Paris a grateful look.

"Let us." He looked at Andromache. "I expect you to make a productive use of your time."

She nodded deeply. "Of course."

They were gone within moments, and she wilted with the fierceness of her relief. When she noticed that Othello was about to speak angrily, she help up a hand to stop him. "Please, Othello," she said. "If only for a moment, I need peace."

Rash as he was, Othello was also the one who most quickly felt remorse. He frowned in regret and came over to her, gathering him to her like a little girl gathers her favorite doll. "I apologize, Andromache," he said into her hair. "I just hate him so much,"

She laughed humorlessly and pulled back, kissing her brother's cheeks. "Which one of you doesn't?" she asked. Then she looked to the Princess of Lampsascus. "Come, Cloris. Let us walk somewhere."

The poor girl looked as if she didn't know what to make of the whole situation; Andromache couldn't blame her. "Yes," she answered. "Let's."

The three of them walked silently through the gardens until they came to a clearing, where Demos, his wife, Callidora, and Prince Hector all sat at the edge of the decorative pond - fishless - in the center. Under normal circumstances, it would have been difficult for her to face Hector and not act as though she knew him as well as she did. However, all Andromache saw was that Callidora was up and out of her chambers, and she gasped and rushed over to her brother's wife, embracing the woman tightly.

"How are you feeling, my friend?" she asked, holing tightly to Callidora's hands as Othello and Cloris moved to greet the others.

"Much better, thank you. Though I had to threaten to not eat to get your brother to let me out here," Callidora said with a smile.

"He is quite overprotective. I know this from experience." She sat next to her sister-in-law, taking the seat Demos had vacated, and said to Othello and Cloris, "I feel I must depart from our walk. I am going to spend time with Callidora."

"Shouldn't we all?" Othello asked, coming over and tugging gently on one of Callidora's wavy locks.

"Yes," Cloris agreed, and she settled herself on the bench directly opposite of them. Demos sat on his wife's other side, and Othello sat on the bench beside Cloris, who was between the youngest prince of Thebe and her betrothed, who had yet to say a word, and had barely spared Andromache more than a passing glance. He was just as good at play-acting as his brother.

"I can't ask you all to stay on my account," Callidora said, looking around at them all.

"Nonsense. As it is, you never asked. We decided," Andromache countered, linking her arm through Callidora's.

"Tell me, Andromache," Cloris said, leaning forward with glowing eyes. "They say that the harvest festivals are advancing quickly. Is this true?"

"It is. Demeter has blessed us; we will soon be celebrating a very plentiful harvest," Andromache answered.

"Did the harvest advisor tell you this?" Demos asked.

"No, the farmer I spoke with at the market did."

Both of her brothers, Callidora, and Cloris all laughed, and Hector shook his head with a subdued smile. "Trust you to it," Othello said.

"I don't understand."

"Princess, you are probably the only one of your rank to go into the market for the sole purpose of speaking to the people there," Callidora told her.

Andromache rolled her eyes. "I have heard this before. Let us move on," she said dryly.

o0o

"It concerns me that he is already speaking to you thus," Hector said that evening as they sat on a bench deep within the gardens.

"It concerns everyone. I trust that things will improve," Andromache replied.

"This is what you tell them, of course," Hector pointed out. "I, however, know differently."

She sighed. "What would any of them have me do? I hold the blade the to Thebe's throat; one wrong move, and I could destroy everything."

There was silence for a moment before he said, "I do believe that no man who has ever lived has ever been in your situation."  
"Why do you say this?"

"Your position is precarious. Your country is being threatened, and you are betrothed to the very man threatening it, and to cause him any offense could mean death for your people. And yet you handle the situation with aplomb."

"Do you think me foolish? For staying in a relationship that will eventually destroy me?"

"I can find no fault in wishing to protect your family and your country. But I believe I have already stated my feelings on the second matter."

"You are the only one who believes I will endure."

"Surely not," he said. When she simply looked at him, his expression grew grim and he looked away.

"Everything will work out in the end," Andromache said. "We must trust in that."

"How?" he demanded. "How will everything correct itself? Perhaps you can tell me, because I don't see it."

"I don't see it either, but I have resigned myself to watching for the opportunity. Something will happen, and we will know what to do then." She stood. "I must return."

He nodded and stood, offering his arm. Hector escorted her to the fish pond, and she continued on her own from there in order to not arouse suspicion. Things were more precarious than she had expected, to put Hector on edge like that. She knew that her friend was not easily ruffled; his upset just before was evidence that Andromache's situation was becoming worse.

o0o

The next afternoon, word came that the farmers would finish with the last of the harvest that day, and in three days the festivals would begin. This was much sooner than anyone had anticipated, and the thought threw Andromache into a kind of panic: Corydon wanted to leave a week after the festival, which was normally a week long.

She now had two weeks and three days left in her life, for surely it would end with her marriage.

Of course, she never showed anything but excitement for the upcoming festivities. She had always enjoyed the festival of the harvest, and to show any other emotion towards it would cause suspicion, something she could not do.

Andromache spent the next two days hidden within the safety of her family; she was never without a sibling or parent while the sun was awake; more often than not, her afternoons were also spent with Paris and Cloris. The only time she was outside the company of a family member were the times she spent with Hector. She was safe with her family and Hector: Corydon would never dare be too coarse with her in front of her family, and he never knew of her time with Hector.

Because of this, she fell into a false sense of security. She felt temporarily safe, even if that safety was frail. Thanks to the distractions of her family, Paris, Cloris, and Hector, she was able to avoid thinking of her imminent future. Corydon played only a minimal role in her life over the course of those three days. This, in turn, caused her to believe that perhaps things would turn out better than everyone precipitated.

On the third afternoon, however, Corydon gave her a taste of just how badly things could end.

She was walking through the Shrine of the Queens with Cloris, Hector, Corydon, Paris, and Othello, and things were progressing fairly well. Conversation was impersonal, but not awkward, and her betrothed had not shown the spiteful side she knew he possessed. When the tradition of the masked evening was brought up, however, she should have known that things would not be received well.

"Andromache, I have heard of an evening where women attend the festivities with their identities concealed, and the men chose them based on instinct alone. Could you explain this to me?" Cloris had asked. It occurred to her that, of all of Thebe's guests, Cloris was the one most interested in the happenings of the harvest festival. Perhaps it was because, as men, all of the others already knew much of the traditions. It was rarely deigned worth while to inform women of other counties' tradition.

"It is essentially as you say," Andromache replied. "Women attend anonymously, and the men choose who they will spend the evening with. At the end of the night, the women unveil themselves. It was originally practiced by the people as a form of matchmaking, for everything that each couple discusses has absolutely no boundaries. The higher members of society found the idea amusing, and so we practice it as well."

"Naturally, you will not be participating," Corydon said.

The whole of the group stopped, staring at the two of them. Andromache stared up at him, disbelief written plainly on her face. Perhaps the false security she had been held sway to emboldened her, or perhaps she was simply a lack wit, but before she realized what was happening, she said, "This is my home, Prince. I will be participating, just as I do every year."

Suddenly he looked dangerous, and Andromache wished she hadn't said anything. "You are betrothed to me, and will do as I instruct. You will not participate in this ritual like some common whore."

The insult to her people's traditions was astonishing. It was all she could do to simply stare up at him. He waved a hand at her dismissively. "Go to bed, Princess."

She finally managed to find her voice, if only barely, stuttering out, "But I-"

"To bed. Now."

There was nothing for it. Othello was helpless to protest, as the youngest son, Cloris was a woman, and Paris and Hector were uninvolved. Andromache looked down in order to hide the tears that stung at her eyes. She nodded and turned, walking between a pillar bearing a torch and a statue of a former queen. On impulse, she looked back.

Hector was the only one watching her, and she met his eyes. Her eyes were stinging, and she knew they were over bright, but she forced a smile for him despite this. His face was concerned. _'I'm all right,'_ she mouthed, but he only gave her a sad smile in return.

Andromache hid in the gardens the rest of the evening. _Mother and Paris were correct, _she thought once more. _I will never survive in Mytilene._

"Andromache."

She turned and found Hector, looking unreadable, standing a few yards behind her. She wiped her eyes hurriedly and forced a smile. "I was wondering if I would see you," she said thickly.

He didn't reply, he only walked over and sat beside her. In a gestured that neither of them expected, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a friendly embrace. At first, Andromache didn't know what to make of it. If anyone were to find out…

But she threw caution to the four winds, risking everything and letting her weakness show for just a moment. She latched onto him, taking comfort in his protective strength shamelessly. After a moment, he pulled away and stood, helping her to her feet. In some odd way, she regretted that he had pulled away, but she was not stupid enough to ask for it back, nor would she willingly belittle her pride in such away. So she settled for their traditional walk.

They wandered the gardens in silence. It was quite some time before he abruptly turned to her, setting his hands on her shoulders, and said fiercely, "I will find a way for you to be free of him, Andromache."

She smiled sadly and reached up to cup his cheek fondly. "Don't bother yourself over it, Hector," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "My destiny is sealed, my fate resigned. There is nothing anyone can do, and I won't have you putting yourself in danger because of me."

She kissed his cheek and left, refusing to let the tears fall. "Andromache," he called after her.

Looking back, she smiled reassuringly, but her lips trembled. "I am a woman, Hector. There is nothing for it. Not even you, the greatest of men, can change the role of a woman."

She left him then. Andromache couldn't have him thinking that there was anything he could do for her situation, because, in the end, there was nothing he could do that would not put his life at risk. If he was injured, or worse, killed, in trying to rescue her from her fate, she would never forgive herself. When she returned to her rooms, she found Metis waiting for her. Andromache forced a smile for the younger girl and went over to sit before the vanity.

She looked at her slightly distorted reflection in the smooth, polished metal before her. Her face was neutral, but her eyes were sad. Metis came up to stand behind her.

"I heard about what happened today," the younger girl said quietly.

Andromache sighed, watching her own eyes in the mirror. "It was nothing, Metis," she replied, her voice betraying absolutely no emotion. "He is my betrothed. I must obey." Her eyes were now blank, every emotion she may have felt carefully tucked away behind a numb shield. She was resolved. "Corydon is wearing green to the first festival tomorrow. I must wear the same."


	6. The Beginning of the Festival

**A/N: Okay, so I kinda lied; things get better in the next chapter. I mean, they get better here, a bit, but things really improve in the next one. Anywho, just a quick thanks to all you kind people; I don't know where I'd be without you!**

**_Chapter Six  
The Beginning of the Festival_  
**o0o

The next morning, Andromache's numbed mood had not diminished. She gazed about the world emotionlessly, and she was thankful for the lack of feeling. She pointedly ignored the concerned glances she received at her morning meal with her Erastus, Demos, Alexander, and their families as she smiled and laughed, and all the while no emotion spread to her eyes. To Andromache, she had placed a shield between herself and the emotions she knew could destroy her willpower. To everyone else, she had simply stopped feeling.

That afternoon was spent with acquaintances of the court, most of them daughters of her father's advisors. None of them questioned her lack of emotion, for none of them knew her well enough to know the difference. Around mid afternoon, she left to prepare for the first evening of festivities.

Metis was deeply troubled by the new attitude her mistress had taken on. "Princess, are you completely sure that everything is all right?"

"Of course everything is fine, Metis," she said carelessly, but her eyes were dull as she faced her distorted reflection. "Why would they not be?"

Metis did not reply, and Andromache did not supply further explanation. She changed into her dark, forest green clothing, put on her gold jewelry, and let Metis manipulate her curls and line her eyes with kohl. She looked exactly what her station was: future wife of Prince Corydon.

For that was now her station. Not Princess of Thebe, but future wife of Prince Corydon.

The festival was to be held in the square before the palace. There was a large platform on which two thrones sat, and below them were seats. But before anyone gathered there, a large parade through the streets of Thebe was to take place, and all members of the royal family were to be featured in it, as well as all the royal guests of the country.

They assembled at the entrance to the city. Andromache stood in a chariot beside her betrothed. Her parents were in the chariot ahead of them, and her brothers were arrayed behind them on horses. Behind them, Paris and Cloris were in a chariot as well, and behind them was Hector, riding Eros. She very quickly tucked away the memory of when Hector had introduced her to Eros; it was a particularly fond memory, and she did not want to taint it with her current mood.

Andromache adjusted her gown and her jewelry as she glanced around her. Cloris smiled and nodded to her, and she did the same in return, then nodded to Paris. She met Hector's gaze at one point, but neither of them made any movement otherwise. There was something in his gaze, something pointed - he was trying to tell her something, she knew. But she had no idea as to what that could have been, and, a part from that, she felt oddly guilty.

She looked away as Corydon picked up the reigns and, when her father's charioteer moved them forward, the Prince of Mytilene snapped the leather straps, and they were jolted forward. Sooner than Andromache had expected, they were within the crowds, who were cheering and dancing. Children ran alongside the envoy. Andromache smiled at them, but she could never bring much feeling into the display of emotion.

Suddenly Corydon looked at her. "You would do anything to protect these people, wouldn't you?" he asked.

What did he mean by it? "Yes," she answered.

"Tell me this, Princess. What would they do for you?"

She looked straight ahead once more.

"Refuse to answer for them?"

"Yes." She looked back to him. "What they would do for me is irrelevant. I would do anything for them, and for my family."

Her unspoken words were clear: _even marry you._

His eyes narrowed. "You should watch what you say."

"I do not believe I said anything that would cause offense," she said innocently, facing ahead of them. "Please tell me if I have done so."

"Your words do not offend. It is your implications, Princess."

Andromache looked back at him, and this time, there was an actual emotion in her eyes: anger. "Do what you will to me, Prince of Mytilene," she said icily. "There is nothing that can be done against it, and I will accept it quietly. But if you hurt them, or anyone else I love, not even the gods will be able to protect you from me."

"Bold words from such a weak princess," he said coldly, but she saw the caution in his eyes.

The parade was a short one, and at that moment they were brought to the square in which the main of the celebrations was to take place. Corydon stepped out of the chariot, and then helped Andromache, who assumed the cool, controlled air that was common of most princesses, but not of her. She allowed Corydon to escort her up to the dais

The seating was arranged according to gender and age. On the highest tier, of course, sat her parents. On the tier below that were her brothers, arranged according to birth order, with Alexander standing in the center, his wife seated before him, and from there the siblings radiated out by age, Demos to Alexander's right and Erastus to his left. The end result was the following arrangement: Orestes, Cohn, Demos, Alexander, Erastus, Talos, and Othello (in age order, they were: Alexander, Demos, Erastus, Cohn, Talos, Orestes, and Othello).

On the third tier, directly below Alexander and his wife, was stationed Andromache, with Corydon standing behind her. As the only daughter and youngest child, her parents had wished to give her a place of authority rather than placing her beside them, nearly hiding her from view. She had always been grateful for her place, for it commanded respect equal to that of her brothers, and it gave her a wonderful view of the festivities.

This night, however, she wanted nothing more than to hide.

The two Princes of Troy were seated on either side of Andromache, Hector to her right and Paris to her left; Cloris, of course, sat before Hector. Once everyone was seated, the villagers moved from the edges of the square to the center and looked to Eetion, who signaled the beginning of the festivities. There was a great, joyous shout, and a sudden flurry of movement, and before any of the spectators had a chance to absorb what was happening, there were ribbon dancers in the center of the square, and the musicians had begun their chanting, hauntingly lively tune.

There had once been a time that Andromache had wanted to be a ribbon dancer. At the age of nine summers, she had planned her runaway, disguise, and training. She would travel the world and perform for great kings. Unfortunately, she had made the mistake of confessing this to Erastus, who had taken her to see what the ribbon dancers' lives were really like.

She had been horrified, needless to say. The dancers lived in shacks that could barely be called houses, let alone homes, and were mistreated, starved, and abused horribly. To make everything worse, they were owned. _Owned_! Men _owned _them! Cruel men, no less.

Until then, it had never occurred to her to question slavery. But when she had seen the empty looks in those dancers' eyes, her heart had broken. To say that someone _owned _you, it would be worse than death. To be forced not only to do everything that an owner told you to do, but to be forced to say that you were not your own person. This thought horrified her worse than death.

She had immediately gone to her father and pleaded on behalf of freeing the dancers. Her father had said that there was little he could do, but that if she still felt the same way in two years, he would allow her to take action herself, however she saw fit.

Two years came and went, and at eleven summers she felt no differently than at nine. Eetion had followed through on his promise, and Andromache had undertaken the situation.

Her first thought had been to free the women and have the men killed for owning a human being. But then she realized how hypocritical that would be; her own family owned slaves. This had deeply troubled her, and she had asked every slave in the palace for his or her own view of slavery. Many of them, to her surprise, had testified indifferently or favorably. But to justify, they also said that if they were to serve any but the royal family of Thebe, they would wish for death - they owed whatever happiness they had in slavery to the kindness of the Theban family.

So, she had gone throughout the city and bought every dancer who was unwillingly enslaved, every slave that was unhappy. And then she had established guilds for each occupation that the slaves had an expertise in. Once they were established in these guilds, she gave them all the keys to their chains, giving them all their freedom.

Her father had applauded her well for it, and it became known that to mistreat a slave was to invoke the wrath of the princess. From then on, the slaves in Thebe were happy ones.

It had stirred within her a love for politics and government, and she had finally abandoned her thoughts of becoming a ribbon dancer. As she sat there, watching these women twist their banners and their limbs artfully, she decided that it was for the best that she had discovered her love for her country rather than dancing. Her ankles were too weak for such activities.

With a final flourish, the dancers finished and rushed out of the way, and a large cart was brought forward. It was a cart that had been used in the harvest and, to signify the end of the harvest, a farmer who had been elected by his fellows came forward bearing a torch and lit the cart.

There was a great cheer as the wood burst into flames, and the congregation, villagers and court members alike, rushed into the center to dance around the fire. It was an organized chaos, and Andromache longed to join them, but knew that she had to wait. The next night, she would be able to do all the joining she wished.

With that thought to sustain her, she watched the festivities dispassionately, and when they went for the evening meal, she made her way through it in the same fashion. In fact, her lack of enthusiasm was gathering much attention to her, which she persistently ignored.

It was both forever and an instant before she was finally allowed to leave the first evening of the festival. Never in her life would she have believed it, if someone were to tell her a few days earlier that she would be eager to leave the festival of the harvest, but that evening, she did. She was very near to seclusion, and thus safety, when a hand grabbed her arm.

It was Hector. She gave him the same bland look she had given everyone else the entire day. "What is it?"

He seemed to hesitate. Then he released her, backed away a step, and said in an equally dispassionate voice, "Nothing. Rest well."

She nodded to him, doing her best to ignore the sudden pang she felt. "You as well."

Andromache did not sleep well that night. As she was lying there, staring by turns at the ceiling and walls, she contemplated many things; the thing foremost on her mind, however, was the elder Prince of Troy.

He had seemed… irked by her emotional apathy. Andromache was perplexed by this; surely he saw that it was her sole defense against Corydon. It disturbed her greatly to think that the man who had quickly become a friend was irritated with her. Though why he would be aggravated confused her just as greatly: he was the most perceptive person she knew, how was it possible that he couldn't see that she was hiding her emotions out of self-preservation?

Then it occurred to her: Why did she _care_? Friend he may have been, but it was a friendship that was not supposed to be even thought of, let alone _exist_. In fact, it was putting everything at an even greater risk! So, the question was not, "Why is he upset?" but rather, "Why am I upset that he is angry?"

o0o

Andromache was brooding as she sat, seemingly serene, at the edge of a large, decorative pool the next morning. Her arm was resting on a bench, and her head rested on her arm, as her other hand dangled into the water. She absently drew nonsense things on the surface of the pond as she sat there, exhausted and irritable; she had hardly slept at all, and any question that was brought up in her mind was still answerless, despite her lack of sleep.

More than anything, however, she wanted to smile and laugh again: she hated being unfeeling. She wanted to show that she was amused, or pleased, or whatever other emotion she might have been struck by. But emotions were the easiest way for Corydon to begin his domination of her; she had realized this, and had sacrificed feeling in order to save herself. It was the only way she could protect herself from her betrothed.

She was beginning to wonder, though, if it was worth the sacrifice.

"Andromache, love, you look somewhat less than amused."

She turned and looked up to see her mother. Immediately Andromache straightened and indicated the bench; Anatola sat there and laid her daughter's head gently in her lap. Much as she had when Andromache was a girl, she began to stroke the princess's hair gently and soothingly. Andromache let her eyes slide closed.

"Things are not going well, dearest."

It wasn't a question. "No," Andromache agreed.

"Your brothers stand by you, of course," her mother continued. "Talos even threatened to challenge your betrothed himself. All the rest of them, of course, protested that they wanted to be the one to kill him."

"They were always protective," Andromache murmured.

Anatola didn't speak for a quite some time, long enough that Andromache lifted her head and gazed up at her mother with concern. "Mother? What is it?"

The Queen of Thebe cupped her cheek. "I am so deeply sorry for the place your father and I have put you in."

Andromache was instantly concerned, and on the bench beside her mother before half a second had passed. "Never think if it," she said, grabbing Anatola's hand. "This is my duty to you and to Thebe."

"Your father and I never told you why you are marrying Corydon of Mytilene and not some other prince."

"I doesn't matter," Andromache insisted, clutching at her mother's hand in distress. "I don't ca-"

"Please, at least let me explain, Andromache."

Anatola of Thebe was a beautiful woman, even in her age. Graceful and willowy, her auburn-tinted waves were more silver than brown, and her hazel eyes seemed to have a perpetual sparkle of joy and intelligence. But more than this, she simply radiated an inner beauty that diminished any external beauty that might have been in her vicinity. She commanded love and respect by simply existing, let alone by her kind heart and gentle actions.

But at that moment, she radiated such a complete sadness that Andromache had no choice but to grant her mother her wish. So she nodded.

"We were fools, dearest," Anatola said as her voice started to waver. "The King of Mytilene proposed that he would grant us protection for three lifetimes, effective as soon as the terms were agreed to, so long as he was given all marriage rights to our firstborn daughter. Imbeciles that we were, we agreed. We never knew what our daughter would be marrying, never even dreamed of the possibility that our darling girl would be marrying a monster."

This pronouncement nearly drove Andromache to tears. "Never think on it again. You did what was best for Thebe, and I am happy to carry out the duty. It assures safety for our people, Mother." Perhaps it was wrong of her, but seeing her mother reduced to tears, when her mother was such a pillar of strength in her world, made Andromache desperate to assuage the heartbreaks that distressed her parent.

"I am not afraid," she told her mother. It was an outright lie - nothing could have been farther from the truth. But in that moment, she would have said anything to relieve her mother.

Anatola looked as if she didn't quite believe her daughter's words, but didn't question them. The Queen of Thebe reached up with her free hand and wiped her eyes, despite the fact that no tears had made it past her lashes. The older woman smiled at her daughter. "You are strong, dearest. I trust you will work things to your best interest."

The woman stood and, after kissing her daughter's forehead, left with the parting words, "I must go see your father. The advisors have been harassing him once more about Thebe's military, and he is not as young as he once was."

"Take care of him for me."

"I will."

Then she was gone, and Andromache was left with her thoughts. _'I trust you will work things to your best interest.' _What did that mean? Her mother was a wise woman - she knew not to say exactly what she meant, for the risk of being overheard by the wrong ears was high.

At that moment, Andromache was too tired to work out the real meaning of her mother's words. And so she took the literal one. _Work things to my best interest? _she thought, getting slowly to her feet. _I believe that is something I can do. To some extent, at least._

She found him in the stables - with Eros, naturally. Andromache stood patiently in the doorway, making no noise whatsoever, waiting for Hector to notice her. He seemed to be completely absorbed with his task of grooming the horse (or rather, she assumed that was what he was doing), and had no idea that she was even in the same country, let alone in the same stall.

"Are you going to speak?" he asked eventually, casting a quick glance at her.

_Of course he would notice me, _she thought, feeling foolish._ He has been a soldier all his life, he told me himself. How could he _not _notice me?_

"I have something I would like to show you," Andromache informed him.

Hector stopped and gave her his full attention, raising his brows. "Emotions, perhaps?" he inquired.

She frowned at him. "I have no choice. Corydon will only use emotions to demoralize me more quickly. It is an act of self-preservation."

"I realize that," he replied. "But it does not mean that I have to like it."

"What would you have me do?" she cried.

He tightened his mouth slightly and moved to look around her, making sure they were alone. To be safe, he pulled her into the stall and into a tucked-away corner. "What would I have you do?" he repeated. "I would have you act as yourself, not as this cold shell that you have been. I saw the woman staring dispassionately at the performers last night and I thought, _this is not her_. I would have you bring the woman I met back, that is what I would have you do. I would have you bring _you _back."

Andromache simply stared at him for a moment, and he straightened. After the silence, she said, "I cannot bring her back around Corydon." Her voice was quiet. "You know this. If he sees that woman you speak of, I will cease to exist in all forms."

"You needn't bring her back around him, so long as I see her. It concerns me, Andromache."

"I will bring her back, so long as Corydon is not in the vicinity," she promised. "I would like to show you something."

He returned to his task. "What is it that you would like to show me?"

"You can't see it until tonight. After the feast this evening, meet me at the secret entrance in the gardens. Come in what you wear to the feast, but wear something that will hide your identity over it."

He looked back at her, his gaze slightly suspicious. "Should I be wary?"

"Not unless you wish to insult my country's traditions." Andromache reached over and laid one small hand on his arm. "If I am late, don't leave. I'll be there."

Hector nodded. "I will wait for you."

Andromache smiled at him and left, feeling much better than she had earlier that morning. Despite this, she still went to her chambers and slept for three full hours. If she wanted to make it through the evening that lie ahead, she needed her rest.


	7. The Beginning

A/N: Jeez, this chapter was a butt. It got easier as I progressed, and you can tell, lol. The beginning is kinda forced, but it gets smoother as you go along. Oh, well.

Chapter Seven  
The Beginning  
o0o

Corydon wore a deep crimson hue, the color of freshly spilt blood, to the second feast, and Andromache wore the same. The color was not exactly an attractive one on her: it clashed with her auburn curls and made her skin look too pale. But she wore it without complaint - the woman that Hector had not recognized was back, her perfectly bland mask securely in place. She had thought that the banquet would never end; she was so anxious for what would come afterward that she thought she would die from the waiting.

Eventually, however - and none too soon - attendees began to disperse from the banquet, and Andromache excused herself, claiming that she was tired, and fled to her rooms. Metis had her things prepared for her, and she changed quickly into her royal blue gown. It was made of a fine, very thin cotton, and was cut in a way that made it flare when she spun - the exact purpose of the oddly full skirt. Metis pulled back her hair and pinned it with a gold pin, helped Andromache to put on her gold jewelry, all of which jingled merrily when she moved, and soon the princess was rushing out the door, a dark, over-sized cloak covering her from head to toe.

Hector was waiting for her when she arrived, and she barely paused to grab his hand as she opened the door and slipped through. "I thought that the accursed feast would never end," she grumbled to him. "I manage to be late every year, and now I am even more so than normal."

"Where are we going?" Hector asked as she began leading him through a small side street.

"To my favorite tradition," she replied. They rushed through the twisting and turning lanes and pathways, hearing nothing but the sounds of their own footsteps.

"Where is everyone?" Hector asked her, and she threw him back a smile.

"Some are in their homes for the night. Others are where our destination is. Stop." Andromache threw herself into a sudden halt, turning and absorbing the slight impact when Hector ran into her very slightly, taken aback by her abrupt stop. She held up a hand for silence, a smile growing slowly on her face. "Do you hear it?" she asked after a moment.

"Yes," he answered. "What is it?"

"Music." Andromache grabbed his hand, and they rushed down the next few streets. The burst of noise and light was quite sudden, and when their eyes cleared, they found themselves at the very edge of the city along with a great number of people. The music was much livelier than it was at the palace festivals, and towards the center, around a great fire, dozens of people were twirling and clapping.

Andromache looked back at her companion. "Is it too overwhelming?" she asked.

He looked down at her, grinning, and said, "No. Surprising yes, but not overwhelming."

"Wonderful." She grabbed his hand again and started pulling him along behind her. "Come, there is someone you must meet."

Perhaps Hector was beginning to wonder at her sanity, and she wouldn't have blamed him. At that moment, Andromache would not have cared a bit. She raised her free hand in greeting and called, "Adrastos!"

Adrastos was a very large man, tall and broad, muscular from years as a soldier, then a farmer. Andromache supposed he was getting on in years, visible through his more-silver-than-black hair and beard, but his weather beaten face was kind and smiling, and his eyes always sparkled.

"Princess!" he cried in return, throwing his hands into the air and coming over to greet them. It took him possibly three steps, at most, to cover a distance of ten feet, and he immediately grabbed Andromache's face in both hands and kissed her forehead. "We feared you would not join us," he commented, removing her cloak and slinging it over his arm.

"I could never not come," she replied, pulling Hector forward. "I brought a guest."

Adrastos' dark brows rose. "A guest?"

"Yes." Hector's face was inscrutable, and so she assumed that he didn't quite know what to make of the situation. She gave him a reassuring smile. "He is Hector."

"I see." Adrastos surveyed them both for a moment, and Andromache tilted her head slightly in question. Her old friend ignored her, however, and said, "I shall attend to your friend, Andromache. My daughters are missing you."

Immediately she looked to Hector; she had brought him here, should she not stay with him? But he nodded to her. "Go on, I will remain with your Adrastos."

In truth, Andromache did not need much encouragement. She smiled at him and then rushed away, to be received enthusiastically by four young women all within four years of her own age.

o0o

In truth, Hector was slightly taken aback by everything. This portion of the celebration clearly had no ties to the upper levels of the social tier, and yet Andromache had shown more enthusiasm over this than anything. He resolved to ask her about it later.

"So you are the one who has stolen our princess away."

Hector looked -up, for the man was very tall - at Adrastos, who smiled slyly. "She typically comes to see us every few days, but has not been for quite a while. You have been detaining her?"

He didn't really know how much to say, and so his words were hesitant. "We have been meeting, yes-"

"You needn't worry, Prince of Troy. No one here will give your secret away, for that would be betraying our princess."  
Hector looked at him in slight surprise, and Adrastos said, "Of course I know who you are. I may be a farmer, but I am not simple."

"Of course," Hector replied, nodding deeply. "I never intended to suggest any such thing."

Adrastos nodded, and they stood in silence for a moment. "She truly is adored by the people, isn't she?" Hector asked, watching the dancers as they whirled around the fire.

"If adoration fills it properly, yes." Adrastos looked at him, his face unreadable. "You have met her betrothed, the Prince of Mytilene?"

The change in topic surprised him, to say the least. "I have."

"Then you see why we have a great concern for Andromache's welfare."

The subject had become dangerous; he knew this as well as he knew that his brother had a premature obsession with women. In fact, everything was becoming more dangerous, for everyone involved. He saw the tension everywhere, from Andromache's oldest brother to the servants of the palace. Thebe's position was precarious, and it seemed that Lampsascus and Troy were no better off: after all, the only reason he had so much time to spend with Andromache was because his own betrothed was, more often than not, "detained." This was irksome to the Trojan council members that had accompanied Hector and his brother, and Hector knew that the conferences would begin soon.

Andromache trusted this man, however, and he was determined to do the same. After all, she was showing emotions now; he wasn't about to destroy that by slighting her trust for this man and these people. He hadn't realize just how fond of the princess he'd become until she began to act as a mere empty shell; the idea had shaken him more than he had been comfortable with.

"I see it," he answered.

"Prince Corydon is a horrible man. His heart is black, and his soul blacker. Andromache is pure."

"You needn't say such things to me," Hector pointed out.

Adrastos studied him for a moment, then said, "Come." He led Hector around a small group of people as he said, "You have heard that our princess is called the Jewel of Thebe. We started this, when she first began coming here. It is an unwritten tradition: each member of the royal family sneaks out of the palace on the second night of the festival and comes with us. Andromache is the only one to return five festivals consequentially, and we never tire of having her. That," Adrastos pointed, "is why we call her the Jewel of Thebe."

Hector looked to see Andromache mid-twirl, royal blue skirt swirling, her hair cascading down her back in auburn waves and smiling brightly. She had never looked happier, and thus, never more beautiful. He suddenly wished that Adrastos had not pointed this out to him.

"Now, Prince of Troy, you know our princess as well as any of us. You know that the Rat of Mytilene will destroy her. Will you now tell me that there is nothing you can do?"

"The very thought is treasonous," Hector said, watching the princess.

"So says your mind," Adrastos pointed out. "You must listen to more than reason, Prince Hector."

o0o

Andromache nearly fell over laughing, and she stumbled out of the other dancers' way. "I must see to my guest," she said to her friends, who rolled their eyes at her and laughed. She put her hands on her hips. "I apologize for being polite!" she teased.

"Oh, go on," one scolded, twitching her vibrant green skirt and waving Andromache on her way.  
With a mock huff, she whirled around and headed over to where Hector stood with Adrastos. As she approached, Adrastos clapped her friend on the shoulder and left. Andromache smiled in greeting. "I trust you aren't terribly bored."

"Certainly not, no," Hector replied.

"I am very relieved." It was then that she noticed that he was slightly distracted, and she frowned. "Are you sure you are entertained?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered insistently.

Andromache eyed him speculatively. "Then is something wrong."

"No, nothing."

She simply looked up at him for a moment, feeling decidedly odd. "That isn't true," she stated flatly. "Hector, what is it?" He looked at her then, and she grabbed his wrist. "Please tell me."

It was quite sudden, really. Never in all her years would she have ever known what was about to happen. But very suddenly, Hector's hand was behind her neck, and he dragged her forward and pressed his lips over hers. Andromache didn't know what to think; in fact, the only things that crossed her mind was a very vague, "Oh," before she finally gained enough sense to respond. She had barely begun this process, however, when he suddenly pulled away, severing all contact with her.

"I apologize," he said. I-"

She didn't let him finish. Instead, she slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her.

Andromache was unable to say that she had ever experienced this act before, though she had heard the testimony of those who had. In some cases it was wild and passionate, others light and airy. She herself had never really seen a difference - it all had seemed the same to her, and it hadn't seemed terribly special. And perhaps there wasn't a difference - this was, after all, the first time she had ever been truly kissed.

But one thing she knew: "not terribly special" was wrong. Very wrong.

Suddenly he pulled away with a strangled laugh and held her against him. "And I had begun to prepare myself for your wrathful incense," he commented, smoothing her hair, and Andromache chuckled slightly.

As they stood there, it crossed her mind that this would bring everything - _everything _- into a whole new territory. Nothing would ever be the same, ever. Not only this, but her marriage to Corydon would become all the more difficult; at this thought, she shamelessly buried her face in his chest, as if she could hide from her own thinking.

"We should return," Hector commented after some time, and she nodded and pulled away.

"Yes," Andromache said. "I promised my niece I would tell her goodnight."

One dark brow rose, and he said, "Your niece is still awake?"

"No. But I promised, all the same. And her mother is expecting me."

Andromache went over to Adrastos and retrieved her cloak from him, and he gave her a very large hug in farewell. Within moments, she grabbed Hector's hand and was leading them back to the palace.

What would this change, she wondered? Naturally, it brought their relationship to a new level, but she was trying to see past that to how it would affect other constants in her life. Her brothers would rejoice, she knew. Anything was better than Corydon: the elder Prince of Troy was very much like a dream come true for them. Her mother and father were another story.

Thebe itself, however, was another matter all its own. If she were to end the marriage agreement, Mytilene would attack for sure; thousands of Thebans would die needlessly.

Andromache viciously shoved the thought away. No one would ever know, she would have her time with Hector, and she would move on; it was a simple matter. As it was, even if she were to get it into her head to act on this little… romance?… she would stand no chance; it was a very well-known fact that Hector of Troy held his loyalty to his country in highest respect. To terminate a marriage agreement and possibly start a war, that was a direct violation of that loyalty.

No. Even if she wanted something tangible out of this, she would never get it.

But, of course, she did not want it. Thus, she had no reason to worry.

Still, she was not about to let any source of happiness slip away from her, not when she was so close to loosing nearly all happiness for the rest of her days. And this man, she had realized, made her happy. Therefore, Andromache resolved to enjoy her time she shared with Hector while she could, and she would do nothing to alter the course of her life. Thebe and her family was depending on her, and Hector himself had a country and family to care for. True, his position was not quite so precarious as her own, but it was still delicate.

Not only this, but the vague fear, the fearof what Mytilene would do to _Hector, _should they be discovered, that lurked in the back of her mind reinforced her resolve. She would not let him be injured, or worse, killed, because of her.

It was with these thoughts that she lead them back into the gardens and closed the entrance door behind her. She turned around, and Hector was facing her.

"Nothing need progress any further if you do not wish it," he told her quietly, brushing a curl behind her ear.

Andromache was touched by his gallantry, but not surprised in the least. She smiled and grabbed his hand. "No," she replied. "I wish to be happy for now, even if it is only a small amount of time."

Andromache saw the question in his eyes, and before he could speak, she kissed his cheek and said, "I am expected. Meet me here tomorrow evening?"

"Of course," he nodded, and she smiled at him once more before slipping past him and heading to the palace.

She did not want to think any further on what the two of them now had. To do so, she knew, would be disastrous for them both.

o0o

"Andromache, why can't I spend time with Mother?"

Andromache smoothed her niece's hair as the girl tossed a bread crumb into the water with such apathy that it bordered on out right dejection. "Your mother needs her rest, Nerissa. She is still recovering."

Callidora's daughter, who was eight summers old, and second oldest child was a pretty little thing, with straight brown hair that was smooth and soft, deep brown eyes, and a dusting of freckles across her nose. Nerissa leaned against her aunt and sighed.

"I don't want Mother to be ill anymore," she said mournfully. Andromache settled her arm around the girl's shoulders and held the small form to her.

"I know it's difficult. But she is gaining strength; she'll be better soon," Andromache assured her.

"She promised me she would," Nerissa added. They sat in silence for a moment, Nerissa leaning into her aunt comfortably as Andromache absently tossed. Then the girl twisted and looked up at her, and said, "Mother told me that if she was completely well within the week, she would tell everyone that she was unavailable for a day, and she and I would spend the day together. Will you come with us?"

Inwardly, Andromache froze, but outwardly, she forced a smile for her niece. "It will be several days before your father lets your mother out on such a venture. I will not be here, I can't go with you. Besides, I'm sure you do not wish me to intrude on your big day."

"Why won't you be here?" Nerissa asked with a scowl. "Why can't you come?"

"I'm getting married, Nerissa. Remember?"

"Yes, but won't he let you spend time with me? I'm important." Andromache saw the possibility for upset, and braced herself to deal with tears. "You said so. I'm important."

"And you are very important," Andromache assured her soothingly. "But the man I'm marrying wants to leave soon after the festival."

Nerissa scowled fiercely and said, "Why can he not just wait? Dumb men, always ruining everything."

"Don't say such things, Nerissa."

"Will you come visit us?" the girl asked, toying with the fine cotton of Andromache's clothing.

She sighed and reached out to toy with her niece's hair. "I will try my hardest."

"Promise you will visit at least once," Nerissa demanded.

Andromache's expression was slightly pained. "I cannot make that promise, Nerissa."

"Promise you will try?"

The princess bit her lip. She could try, but she would never succeed. She knew this. But Nerissa would not be swayed. "I will try."

Andromache looked up and saw Callidora standing a few yards away, and saw the opportunity for distract the girl from this subject. "Look," she said to the girl leaning against her and pointing to the girl's mother.

"Mother!" Nerissa shrieked, jumping up and sprinting over to Callidora. The older woman greeted her daughter warmly, nodded her thanks to Andromache, who returned the favor, and left, Nerissa in tow.

"You," a voice behind her said, "are horrible."

Andromache turned with a heavy sigh. "What was I to tell her, pray tell?" she asked stiltedly. "I could hardly tell her that I will hardly be let out of the palace, let alone be allowed to visit."

Erastus shook his head, looking at the ground, then came forward. "If you say one word, only one, I will have him on a platter for you."

Andromache sighed and walked a few feet away. "Erastus, you must cease such talk."

"You have always been the one to impress upon us all the importance of the truth."

She whirled around. "Not when the truth could get us all killed!"

"Andromache-"

"No, Erastus," she said fiercely, holding up a hand. "No more. There is nothing for it. I will marry Corydon, and I will go to Mytilene. There is nothing anyone can do."  
Erastus sighed, looking at her almost mournfully. "If there is anything that can be done-"

She held up a hand. "I will tell you. Until then, say no more."

o0o

That evening of the festival was simple, a mere feast with added entertainment. Andromache had escaped early, claiming to feel ill. Her mother and Erastus saw straight through this, but did not argue, and Andromache found herself lying beside a small, ornamental waterfall, dipping her fingers into the water and letting it run smoothly over her long, slender limbs.

"Is it not a signal of your unhappiness, that you sneak away early from a festival you clearly adore nearly every night?"

Andromache shot him a look over her shoulder and sat up, and Hector came over to sit beside her, his back to the water. "I have already instructed my brother on saying such things," she said, giving him a bit of a glare. "To think that way will only bring about more problems. _You _know this, surely."  
"I do," he admitted, studying her. "But I can't help but point this out. One fault of many, I suppose."

She ignored this last comment as frivolous and unworthy of remark. "What point is there in pointing out such truths when there is nothing to be done for them?" she asked. "We both know that my fate is sealed. I fail to see how pointing out my unhappiness constantly will bring about a resolution."

Hector looked away, and Andromache turned her attention back to the water, absently drawing nonsense designs on the surface. The silence was comfortable, and at one point Hector reached out and toyed with one of her curls. Then suddenly he pulled his hand away and eyed her almost cautiously.

"Perhaps…" He hesitated slightly, which was odd, and uncharacteristic. "Perhaps we should discuss this."

Andromache knew, without asking, what he was speaking of. She looked at the water for a moment, then stood and took a few steps away, wrapping her hands about her elbows.

"Andromache."

"I would rather not," she said, turning to face him. "I realize that we should, but…" She walked back over to him and sat down, reaching out to toy with the fabric draped across his shoulder. "You've given me the chance for happiness. For a few days, at least." She looked back up at him then, moving her eyes from his shoulder to meet his own. "I do not feel the need to questions what has been given to me."

He reached up and took hold of her hand, then brought it to his lips. "Very well," he murmured.

"Thank you," she whispered, and Hector shifted his grip on her hand to his other, then slid his now-free arm around her.  
It was most inappropriate; her brothers would have killed men for less than this, had they attempted to be so familiar with her. But Andromache could not bring herself to care; indeed, she leaned into him and let her eyes slide closed. The steady sound and movement of his breathing and rhythm of his heartbeat lulled her into a relaxed state, and she felt as if she would never be able to move.

"Hove you ever wondered," she asked after several moments' silence, "why our traditions are what they are? I see why things such as expectations for chastity are in place, but I can't help but wonder why we do what we do."

"I rarely think of it, truthfully. I suppose it crosses my mind every so often, when confronted with a particularly tedious tradition."

"This is understandable," she murmured. "You do much more than I on a daily basis."

She was very near to sleeping, and Hector saw this. "You should go," he pointed out.

"And if I do not wish to?"

"Then you shall find yourself sleeping out here tonight. I should hope that you don't fall into the water."

Andromache finally opened her eyes and glared up into his amused face. "Please, threaten to let me die again," she muttered sarcastically. "It makes me feel so very dear."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Good night, Andromache," he said. Then he stood and left, and not long after, she did the same.


	8. Advancements

**A/N: This chapter doesn't have much Hector/Andromache. Sorry! But it has some necessary things in it that should be a decent filler for the time being.  
Special thanks to Donna Lynn, whose recommendation shaped a couple portions of this chapter.**

**Note: I've found Lampsascus on a couple maps, but not many; I'm thinking it's equivalent is Percote. If you want some geographical locations, just e-mail me or something, because it won't let me put the URLs up. I have a couple maps thatgive you the location of Andromache's Thebe, Troy, Mytilene, etc.  
**

**Chapter Eight  
Advancements  
**o0o

"Tell me, Princess. What do you know of Mytilene?"

Andromache took a sip of wine from her goblet, feeling Corydon's eyes on her as she did so. Metis stood in the corner, acting as their chaperone, as they dined without any members of Andromache's family in attendance for the first time.

She swallowed the liquid and set the cup down delicately, reinforcing the calmness with which she had held herself all morning. "I may honestly say that I don't know much outside of what has been told to me by my older brothers and yourself." _Not that you, dear betrothed, have told me much of my future home, _she thought rather sarcastically, but her thought did not show itself on her face.

"I see," he murmured, standing and walking over to the balcony, leaning on a pillar and staring at the surrounding landscape. "Would you like to hear of it?"

Andromache instantly saw the opening to at least attempt to build a bridge of peace over the gap of hostility between them. "Yes, please," she answered, folding her hands in her lap and listening attentively.

"Mytilene is very different from Thebe," he said, still looking out over the balcony. "Warm. Moist. And it may rain at any time of the day."

"Does the climate shift bother you greatly?" Thebe, being closer tot eh mountains and near Mount Ida, was much cooler than many, more coastal, places. Thanks to the fact that Ida was the tallest mountain between Thebe and the coast, they still received their fair share of rain, evident by the fact that there was a lake right at Thebe's edge, which flowed into the Scamander. Streams from Mount Ida also flowed into the lake, but a large majority of it was thanks to rain.

"At times."

There was a heavy, awkward silence for a moment, and then she said, "Where is Mytilene?"

"Southwest of here, on the isle of Lesbos," he replied.

"Near the sea?"

"Right at the edge, Princess."

The silence fell again, and suddenly Corydon turned to look at her. His face was unreadable, and her hands tightened around each other. "The customs of my home are unlike your customs," he said, gazing at her inscrutably with his arms crossed over his chest. "Here, not only yourself, but women as a whole, have a great deal of freedom. This is unnatural. In Mytilene," he continued, moving forward as Andromache paled slightly at the description, "you will never be without an escort who will not hesitate to use force against you should you prove to be unchaste. You will not waste your time on menial tasks. Your first duty will be to provide me with an heir. I am by no means the first in line for the throne, but my branch will be carried on."

The manner in which he uttered the words of her providing of an heir frightened her. "What if I were unable to provide you with an heir?" she asked, desperately attempting to make her question appear nonchalant. It worked, to some extent.

"Depending on the circumstances, any number of things. For the first year, punishment would be left to me. Afterward, you would more than likely be put to death for insolence." He gave her a slight smirk as a wave of nausea crashed over her. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yes," she replied weakly. "Yes, it does."

Corydon gave her an odd look. "Are you feeling well?"

She couldn't get her voice to work. The panic that threatened to swamp her mind had begun to affect her, and Andromache struggled to appear calm. "I-"

"Go rest yourself, Princess," he said unkindly, turning away from her. "There is a festival to attend tonight, and I expect you to be attentive even while you are not active. You should begin adjusting to your duties as my wife now, so that they will not be a shock later."

"Yes, of course," she murmured as she stood, trembling. "Will I be dining with you tonight?"

He looked back to her, his gaze assessing, then said, "No. But you will dine with me tomorrow morning."

"Of course." She nodded her head deeply, then left the room.

Andromache began looking for her mother instantly, and found Anatola in the chambers that she shared with her husband. By the time Andromache had stumbled into the room, there were tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Anatola looked at her daughter in shock, having not expected to see her until much later in the day. The woman started to stand, but stilled when she saw the look on her daughter's face.

"Mother," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I am going to die."

Anatola was on her feet in an instant, rushing over to her daughter, who crumpled into her embrace. "Dearest, you really mustn't say such things-"

"No, Mother, you don't understand," Andromache said fearfully, gripping Anatola's hand tightly. "_I am going to die_."

Anatola led her daughter over to the bed and sat her down on it, then took her place beside the princess. "Explain this to me, dearest."

"Corydon explained to me the role I will play in Mytilene," Andromache explained. "If I do not bear children within a year, I will be killed for insolence. During that year, my punishment is left to my husband."

The Queen of Thebe stared at her daughter, horrible realization dawning on her. She slowly straightened. "You don't know that you will be faced with such a situation."

"You are the only woman to give birth to more than two children!" Andromache cried. "No other woman in our family has accomplished this, let alone had a child within the first year of marriage." She shook her head. "It is very likely that I will never have children. Mother… I am going to die."

Anatola placed a hand on her daughter's cheek, brushing the auburn curls away. "Do not fret over such things, dearest. Have faith." She stood and began to pull back the covers. "Sleep now."

"But-"

"Rest, Andromache. You will need it."

Andromache did as she was ordered, lying down in her parents' bed for the first time since she was very young and sleeping away her fears.

o0o

Anatola watched her daughter for quite some time, considering this new development. It was never truly considered, Andromache's significantly slight ability to bear children. For years, it had been assumed that, since she was to be marrying the youngest son, her disadvantage would not be weighed against her.

_Perhaps the Mytilians do not know, _she thought rather hopefully, and directly left and went to find her husband.

She did not have to look far to find him; he was speaking with several of his advisors when she approached, and all of her husband's men bowed to her. She nodded to them then said to Eetion, "I must speak with you. It concerns our daughter."

Andromache being his only daughter, Eetion had always had a bit of a soft spot for her; thus, any time their youngest child was mention, he was willing to drop whatever it was he was doing to resolve whatever problems his daughter may have had. Seeing the look on his wife's face, he knew that she had serious matters to discuss, and so excused himself from his company to walk with his wife.

"What is it?"

"We have sent out daughter to her death."

"What?"

Anatola faced her husband directly, grabbing his hands and fighting back tears. "In Mytilene, if an heir is not provided within the first year of marriage, the woman is put to death for insolence." The look on Eetion's face was nothing short of horrified terror. "We both know that Andromache will be fortunate to _ever _bear children, let alone within the first year of marriage."

"I do not believe," Eetion said slowly, "the Mytilians know of Andromache's delicacy."

"Then perhaps we still have hope."

Both of them knew that this was unlikely.

o0o

That night, Alexander sat in the place of honor during the banquet. The third night's entertainment had been altered in order to feature the royal guests. Rather than the great mingling that took place in the square before the palace and organized games and competition, a large feast had been prepared, and organized entertainment had been prepared. Andromache did not know what had been arranged, but she was beginning to think that she was better off not knowing.

Corydon had wasted no time in "helping her to adjust to acting as his wife;" already she felt degraded and undermined, and her emotions were tucked away behind her bland, unfeeling mask. It was no help that, three seats away from her, Hector sat with Cloris by his side. Her friend, the Princess of Lampsascus, looked beautiful, with her shining black waves organized artfully and her crimson clothing highlighting her eyes, which were hazel and lined with kohl, and her naturally red lips.

Andromache could honestly say that she felt no jealousy, even if that was only because she knew she had absolutely no right to be envious. But the idea that she was beside Corydon, who was an expert at making her feel completely worthless without putting forth any effort, was rather galling, when one of her very dearest friends (she refused to think of him as anything else, for fear of her sanity) sat only a few seats away.

Alexander stood, commanding the attention of the room. "Friends, countrymen, honored guests!" he cried, opening his arms wide in greeting and beaming at the all. "We of Thebe humbly welcome you to the third night of our modest harvest celebration." There was an uproar of cheers and applause at this, and the table shook as many men pounded on it with all their might. "It is our hope that you have all enjoyed your stay, and will continue to do so over the rest of the duration of your visit. Now, I ask that you eat your fill, and enjoy what we have planned for you!"

There was an even louder eruption of cheers as Alexander gestured to the large doorway across from him. The doors were flung open, and at least a dozen scantily clad women entered, all of them bearing large amounts of braids and heavy jewelry, but not much by way of clothing.

Andromache immediately looked to her brother; the look on his face was neutral to many, but she saw that he was not only taken aback by the form of entertainment provided, but even slightly irritated by it. She looked away from Alexander, quietly sending him her sympathy. She was unable to look at the dancers as the music began and they started their entertainment; it was a mortification to the female race.

She endured it for some time, listening to the men speak of various things, before she finally felt that she could endure no more. "Might I be excused, my lord?" she asked her betrothed quietly.

Corydon looked at her, surveying her from top to bottom. Andromache felt that she could meet no one's eyes, let alone his, and so did not return his gaze. "Yes," he said graciously, and Andromache was shocked into looking up at him. "Do not forget that you will be eating with me tomorrow."

"I won't. Thank you, my lord," she said, truly meaning it.

She stood and escaped quickly while she still had the chance. She went out into the gardens, taking comfort in her sanctuary. Not a moment later, however, she found that she wasn't alone.

"Andromache?"

She turned and saw Cloris standing a few yards behind her, looking terribly anxious. Andromache was instantly concerned. "What is it?"

"I believe…" Cloris looked at her, hesitating on the verge of saying whatever it was that was bothering her. Andromache simply waited. "Wait. Could I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Andromache replied, a concern frown creasing her brow as she stood. "Ask me anything."

"Have you ever been in a dilemma," she asked hesitantly, "in which you wanted something, but knew you could never have it because of what has already been agreed for you?"

How was she to answer that. Andromache knew that she had to tread carefully, or else risk giving her secret away. That was something that could _not _happen. "Yes," she replied carefully. "Why do you ask?"

Cloris seemed about to speak, but then she stopped and forced a smile. "Nothing, Andromache. Might I sit with you?"

"Of course."

She spent the rest of the evening with Cloris, but remained in the garden long after the Princess of Lampsascus left. What had she meant by her initial question? She would have to ask Erastus of it later-  
No, she couldn't ask Erastus. Cloris has behaved as if her words were a great secret, and so Andromache would respect that. She frowned down at her hands, contemplating this latest development.

"You look troubled."

She looked up, and there stood Hector, watching her with his arms crossed over his chest. Andromache smiled. "I do not mean to," she pointed out as he came forward.

"But you do?" He stopped before her, watching her eyes carefully. "What is it?"

Andromache shook her head. "Nothing." She held out a hand. "Walk with me, please?"

o0o

Corydon was late for their breakfast the next morning. It was very near to midday when he finally emerged, looking ruffled. Andromache could smell the perfume on him, and she struggled to find at least a sense of semi-equilibrium. "I trust," she managed to say after several moments of silence, "that you enjoyed the feast last night."

"Oh, yes," he said, rather absently, to be admitted. He raised his glass to her and said, "The entertainment chosen was particularly enjoyable."

It was such an obtusely cruel thing to say, and they both knew it. He was attempting to elicit a response from her, something to use against her. She gave him no such satisfaction. Rather, she smiled and said, "I am glad."

"Now, tell me, Princess. How many brothers do you have?"

"Seven. All of them are older than I." Andromache looked down at her plate, on which was nothing but small amounts of fruit. She picked up a grape, but did not eat it.

"Are all of them married?"

She looked up at her betrothed, wondering at his meaning. "No," she said guardedly. "Othello and Orestes are both unmarried; Talos was only married a month ago."

"I see."

Corydon gave no explanation, and Andromache could devise no reasoning for his question. "May I enquire as to why you ask?" she asked him after some time.

"No," he said bluntly.

Andromache looked away. "I apologize."

There was another stretch of silence, then Corydon sighed, exasperated, and said, "I ask because I have concerns about the Princess of Lampsascus."

"What?"

She hadn't been able to stop herself. Corydon looked as if he was going to shout in outrage at such a bold statement from her, but he regained his composure. "I have reason to believe," he said tersely, "that the Princess of Lampsascus is beginning to question the marriage agreement between her home and Troy."

She looked away, forcing herself to regulate her breathing. _In, out. In, out. _"And how do my brothers fit into that speculation?"

"I believe that one of them has affected her decision, naturally." He looked at her, and Andromache met his eyes out of fear that, if she didn't, she would show just how much the conversation had shaken her. "Is there offense in this?"

She returned her eyes to her plate of fruit. "No, my lord."

"In truth," he said, leaning back in his chair and observing her, "I can hardly blame her. There are times when I wonder if the Prince of Troy truly is worthy. But then, there are also times when I wonder if the young Princes of Thebe are worthy, so I suppose it all balances out in the end."

He studied her closely, and she knew that he was attempting yet again to elicit a response from her. She simply gazed back at him levelly, making no reply, and her expression was bland. There was no possible way for him to "misconstrue" her body language or facial expression and suddenly become hostile.

This, apparently, was galling for him, because his face twisted into a mask of anger and he jumped to his feet, knocking over the chair. Andromache flinched when the furniture hit the floor with a loud _thwack!_, and she watched him cautiously as he stalked away several feet. Suddenly he spun to face her. "Can you not see that I want out of this as much as you?" he roared. "Do you truly think I want to have a connection to _Thebe_, of all places?"

Andromache clutched at the edge of the table, staring up at him with wide eyes. When she did not reply, he strode over and, with a violent shove, pushed the table out of the way. The food and glasses were shaken ferociously; one glass fell over, soaking everything in wine the color of fresh blood. She pressed her back into the chair fearfully as Corydon place a hand on either side of her head and leaned forward.

"You," he said fiercely, "are my future wife, and will behave as such. When I ask you something, you _will _answer. _Do you understand me_?"

Andromache drew in a slow, shaking breath, forcing herself to calm down. "Yes, my lord," she said quietly after a small moment.

Corydon abruptly straightened, turning and walking away from her. "Keep in mind, Princess," he said coldly, "that you will have a role to play at all times. Should you not play that role, it will be viewed as insolence. Insolence from a woman is intolerable." He waved a hand at her dismissively. "Leave. And do not enter my sight for the rest of this day."

She sat frozen for a moment, then suddenly was on her feet and running. She hid herself in her room securely, and when it came time for the festival, she claimed illness. She did not leave her room.

o0o

"Unfortunately, gentlemen, the Mytilian crisis is no more over than it was four night ago. A new development in the knowledge of Mytilene's traditions has given us all cause for serious concern. It is a typical practice to have a woman killed for insolence should she not bear a child within the first year of marriage. We must now inform the ambassadors from Mytilene of our princess's condition, for sake of her life," Eetion said to the men gathered in the room with him. They all sat on either side of a large, rectangular pool, and behind them were many tall pillars that stood from floor to ceiling.

Alexander sat on their father's right, Demos on his left, and the rest of his sons, should they choose to attend the council meetings, sat in the highest places on honor around the center pool. This was where Erastus sat, surveying the reactions of his companions' faces as they absorbed this news. Many of them looked angry, others slightly afraid, others disgusted.

Erastus could hardly blame them. Being Eetion's only daughter, Andromache was dear to the people of Thebe in a way that none of Eetion's other children could be. Not that any of them would begrudged her of it; if anything, they had encouraged it. He had known for quite some time that this marriage arrangement for his sister was a deplorable one: being the commander of Thebe's army, which had begun to grown in size and skill under his leadership, he knew more of the personalities of other nations' rulers than any of the men sitting on his father's council, and he had known of Prince Corydon's personality for years. No matter what he said by way of pleading his sister's case, however, the marriage agreement would not, and could not, be annulled. Now, what he had known all along was beginning to make itself known to the men who had so adamantly fought against him for so long.

"If we inform them of our princess's delicacy, what will prevent the Mytilians from violating the agreement and attacking?"

"An excellent point," Cohn, the brother just below Erastus in age, said with a nod. "I won't let them kill my sister, but Thebe will be hard pressed to survive a lengthy war."

"Our military is stronger than many believe," Erastus pointed out. "It was weakened by the war with Lyrnessus ten years ago, particularly when Adramytium ambushed us, but has since grown stronger. Should the gods bless us and luck be on our side, we could withstand war. However," he paused, knowing his next words would doom his sister. "It would be at a very great price, and Thebe would never be the same."

There was a great deal of muttering and murmuring at this. Erastus watched them, hoping to any listening deity that they would not completely disregard his sister's fate. After several moments of individual discussion, his father's war advisor stood, holding up a hand for silence.

"I believe that, with Erastus in command, we would have the strength to withstand and defeat any attack, including an attack from Mytilene," he announced.

"Speak with the Mytilian ambassadors, and listen to their responses," Alexander said quietly to his father, who nodded and stood.

Erastus stood respectfully as the other men did and watched his father as he stepped from his high seat and walked forward. "We will do as my son has suggested, and will do our best to work things to everyone's best interest. However," he gazed around at them all, his eyes piercing, "we should prepare ourselves to choose the safety of one over the safety of the other."

He nodded to them with a sense of finality and left. In his wake was left a great deal of conversation and debate, but Erastus found that he could not actively participate in any of it. He hardly acknowledged his brothers as he left the chamber, heading for his rooms, not pausing for anything.

Megara was sitting with their son on the balcony, playing a sort of hand game that he did not recognize. He stood silently for a moment, watching them as they finished their game and Andreas crawled into his mother's lap. Megara settled her arms about their two-year-old, cradling him lovingly. The sight of his wife and son reminded him cruelly of just what was at stake in the drama that was unfolding before him.

Erastus knew that he did not have only his sister to think of. He had a people, but more importantly, a family, to consider. Were his family to fall, he would never survive. He knew that without Megara and Andreas, his life would end, whether or not Thebe stood.

Megara turned and smiled up at him. "You do realize that it is rude to eavesdrop."

He smiled in return, despite himself, and walked forward to greet her. "Is it truly eavesdropping when you are in your own home?" he inquired with a raised brow.

"If you are not in the conversation," she informed him, "then it is eavesdropping."

"Is it then?" He leaned down and kissed her, resting a hand on the gentle curve of her neck when he straightened. "Thank you for correcting me."

"That is something I shall always do." Megara stood, adjusting her grip on their son. "I do not believe I will be attending the festival this evening," she said as she went into their room, taking their now-sleeping son over to his cradle.

"Why?"

Megara paused slightly in her movements, then finished settling their son down and straightened, turning to face Erastus with a very serious expression. "I can no longer stand to see your sister as she has been."

Erastus sighed heavily, putting a hand to his head, and sat on their bed. "It is no easier for me, I assure you," he commented dryly.

She sat beside him, slipping her arm through his and smoothing the cotton of his clothing gently. "If only there was something to be done for it," she murmured. "This is harder for you than it ever will be for me."

"We will endure," he replied. Then he turned to look at her, smiling gently. "Perhaps I shall spend the evening with my family tonight."

"I believe we would enjoy that, love."


	9. Cataclysm

A/N: This one doesn't have much Hector/Andromache in it, either, and it's really fairly short, but it's necessary. Highly necessary, even. It's a dramatic one! Don't worry, I'm fairly certain the next chapter will have a certain degree of fluffiness, so I'll try to make up for it.

Love and hugs to all of you; I don't know where I'd be without you!

Chapter Nine  
Cataclysm

o0o

Andromache did not see Hector that night, with the thought that it might help her vision to clear: everything had become so complicated, and she only wanted to be able to see what to do. When the next morning dawned, however, little had altered: she was thoroughly upset with the way things were beginning to change and more confused than ever.

She sighed , watching the sun rise from her balcony. It was the fifth day of the festival, and that evening would be the Feast of the Children. Her niece had already demanded that Andromache attend. It was an unusual thing for an adult to attend the evening of the festival specifically for the children, but there were no laws against it, and Andromache intended to spend as much time with her nieces and nephews as possible.

"Princess, you did not sleep well. Should you even be awake at this hour?"

Andromache turned and gave Metis a smile, even if it was small. "Don't fret, Metis. My sleeping habits have become so unusual lately, it is no longer a concern."

"It should be," the slave girl pointed out.

"I am not concerned. Sleep is something I can catch up on at a later date."

There was a heavy thud from the direction of the door, and Metis went to go open it. A moment later, she returned. "Princess, the Prince Paris of Troy is here to see you."

Andromache smiled and went to greet him. "You do realize that it is typically inappropriate to enter a woman's rooms?" she asked teasingly as she moved to kiss each of his cheeks.

"Tell me, Princess, when has propriety ever been a factor in our meetings?" he asked, jerking his eyebrows suggestively, and she shoved at his shoulder.

"You shouldn't say such things, you will give our secret away!" she scolded. She went over to where to cups of wine sat, having been just poured by Metis. Andromache picked them both up and took one to Paris, then gestured for him to join her on the balcony. "What brings you to my rooms this fine morning, Paris?" she asked.

Suddenly his face was unusually grave, and Andromache steeled herself. "Hector," Paris said grimly.

She flattened her hand against the stone railing of the balcony, struggling to maintain a calm outer aura. "What of him, then?"

"I fear for him, Andromache," he said, leaning heavily against the banister. "I know that I am regarded as a womanizing fool, and perhaps those who hold me in such regard are right. I certainly would not deny the fact. But I love my brother. He is the greatest man I know, and my dearest friend." Paris looked to her then, and Andromache struggled with her emotions. This conversation was dangerous. "His resolve to marry that Princess of Lampsacus is weakening."

_What? _she wanted to cry. What on earth could cause Hector's unwavering loyalty to his country to falter? Did she _want _to know what had caused him to question his duty? Fearing the worst, she asked, "Has he told you this?"

"I know my brother, Andromache," he said, frustrated. "He is wavering. And I-" He gave a short, completely humorless, laugh. "I do believe that I support him wholeheartedly."

By now, Andromache was shaking slightly. This entire conversation was throwing her state of equilibrium into chaos, and she did not appreciate it. She forced a smile. "Do you even know why he is wavering?" she inquired, attempting to be reassuring.

"Does it matter?" he demanded, leaving the rail to pace. Andromache turned to watch him, leaning against the banister. "The Princess of Lampsascus is dull and lifeless. She would never make Hector happy."

"You don't know that," she pointed out. "And I hardly would call Cloris dull and lifeless-"

"No," Paris said with a sigh. "But compared to other women, she is… lesser." He gave her a pointed look, which she deliberately ignored.

"Perhaps she is not the brightest," Andromache said fairly. "But she has a kind heart and a good disposition. She would make a good wife for anyone, I'm sure your brother will be happy."

"You don't know my brother, Andromache," Paris said, resuming his pacing. "He would never be happy with a good disposition, though it would certainly make things easier. He would be much happier with someone with whom he could speak, hold conversations. He was never very good at charming women, that has always been my domain. He responds to words of intellect, not frivolity. Kindliness is not enough; _intelligence _is required."

The conversation was making her feel thoroughly miserable, though she could not exactly find why. "I am sure that everything will work out in the end," she assured Paris. Then she tilted her head slightly and asked, "Why do you believe that Hector's determination is wavering?"

Paris stopped and looked at her. She returned his gaze questioningly, and after a moment he shook his head with a smile. "Pay no mind to me, Princess. The simple ramblings of a wayward prince far from his home, nothing more."

_Liar, _she thought, but did not voice it. Rather, she smiled in return and said, "If you wish it. Though surely Thebe is not so deplorable when compared with Troy?"

"Of course not. Thebe is splendid, I assure you. I simply miss my home."

"And for good reason, I'm sure. I do not look forward to leaving my home, only to never return," she replied, keeping her voice light despite the heaviness of her words.

"Yes, I have never envied the role of a woman," Paris agreed. "You must endure so much, only to endure more."

Andromache patted his cheek, resolving to put an end to their current conversation. "Yes, well, it is something that is best assigned to women. No man, I am sure, could endure what women go through."

"Naturally." He kissed her hand. "I shall take my leave now. Pleasant day, Andromache."

"The same to you," she said as he left. She stood silently for several moments after he was gone, considering what was said. What on earth would drive Paris to speak to _her_, of all people, of his brother's hesitance? More importantly, what would cause that hesitance? She bit her lip; did she _want _to know? "Metis," she called, returning back into her room.

"Yes?"

"I am going to see my father. Should any call on me, tell them I will return their call as soon as I may," she said, pulling a shawl around her shoulders and adjusting her veil.

"Of course."

Andromache slipped from her chambers and walked silently down the still corridors until she came to her parents' chambers. She lifted the large knocker and let it thud onto the door, then waited patiently as a servant opened the door.

Her father saw her immediately. He gestured her inside, holding out his hands and saying, "Andromache, love. What brings you here at such an hour?"

"I had to speak with you," she replied, slipping her fingers into his.

"Come, my dear." Eetion led his daughter out onto the pavilion he shared with his wife. Anatola was already up and out seeing her grandchildren, and so it was only the king and his daughter. "Tell me. What is it you would like to speak of?"

Andromache drew a deep breath, then said, "My upcoming marriage to the Prince of Mytilene, and the… repercussions that might result from it."

Eetion's face became very grave. "Speak, child. I will answer all that I can."

"Do the Mytilian ambassadors know of my inability to bear children?" she asked directly. Her countenance was brave and solid. Firm, competent. Inwardly, however, she was terrified, but knew that the time for fear was past. She had to be brave. Corydon had revealed something by his words that denied his willingness to marry her. Should she stand quiet but firm, she may very well survive the storm that her life would become. Perhaps Corydon's persistent hostility toward her was caused by his dislike of the arrangement. The only thing that stood in her way now was her childbearing matter.

"No, they do not."

"So Prince Corydon's words were uttered in ignorance," she said, relaxing slightly. "Will they be informed?"

"I am going to speak with them today, and I shall do it personally."

Andromache nodded firmly, her inner terror beginning to dissipate. There was silence for a moment, then she said, "Father, I want to say it."

Eetion looked to her sharply. "Please say that again, dearest, I do not believe I heard you correctly."

"I cannot hide behind you and Mother forever, Father," she said. "I wish to say it, and to argue for Thebe's safety should they prove recalcitrant."

"Andromache-"

"Please, Father," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "If I am to be these men's princess, I want their regard."

He looked hesitant, but Andromache's gaze did not waver. Eventually, her father looked away. "Very well. We are meeting in an hour."

o0o

She wore a pale green silk and gold jewelry, sitting proudly on her father's right. Alexander sat on their father's left, not bothering to hide his anxiety. There were men from every assembly present: all of her brothers, her father's council, the ambassadors from Mytilene, the ambassadors from Lampsacus, and from Troy. Men from Thebe who had rarely attended such meetings, when they were made public, were present; the word that Princess Andromache would be speaking had spread like fire during a drought.

In fact, there were enough people there that she struggled not to look at their numbers; Andromache kept her eyes carefully on the Mytilian ambassadors, watching their reactions with a shrewd eye. Many of them seemed both disgruntled and concerned that such a meeting had been called, and that it had been made public.

Making the meeting public had been Andromache's idea, as well. Appearing before them all at once would dispel any cruel rumors that may begin from her words, or the words said in response. Not only this, but she had viewed this as an opportunity to win some respect from her future husband and his peers, and she was determined to not fail.

Eetion stood, and everyone in the assembly stood respectfully - at least, those who were not already standing rose. The room was full enough that there were more men standing than sitting. The numbers frightened her if she let herself think on them: never had she felt so insignificant. So she refused to think of them, and thought only of the reasons she was standing there.

"We have an announcement to present to the assembly, particularly to those of Mytilene," Eetion said, very much the King of Thebe. "At her request, my daughter will be speaking on my behalf. I request that you give her the same respect and attention you would me, for she is as qualified to stand here as any of us." Eetion gazed around the room, seemingly staring down every man in attendance. Then he slowly sat, and the rest of the assembly sat with him.

Andromache remained standing. She was regal, commanding respect and attention without speaking. She nodded deeply to her father, who nodded in reply, and then stepped down from the dais her seat was on and toward her audience.

She had never been more afraid in her life. There were so many, and so many of them were important men with a great deal of power. And there she was, the youngest child of King Eetion, a woman, and a physically weak woman at that. She had never deluded herself into thinking that she possessed a great intelligence or beauty. She was, essentially, insignificant, and now she was presenting the case on which rested the fate of her people.

_Athena give me courage, _she thought, terrified. Then, she added, _Ophelia, help me to be as you were._

"Gentlemen, a dilemma has recently presented itself regarding myself and the traditions of Mytilene," she said. Her voice was calm and level. Royal. She inwardly thanked the gods that she had inherited her mother's adeptness at adopting regality. "Many of you know of a tradition in Mytilene concerning the bearing of children within the first year of marriage. I must now say that, to our shame, we of Thebe did not know this. Therefore, it never occurred to us to inform you of what I am about to say.

"There is an affliction that plagues the women of my family, great gentlemen. I, unfortunately, will have great difficulty ever bearing children. My mother is the single exception in a long line of failed pregnancies and difficult, terrible labors. It is unlikely that I, as Princess of Mytilene, will bear a child within the first year of my marriage to Prince Corydon."

The uproar at this was tremendous. Men jumped to their feet in shock or outrage, or sagged in their seats, depending on their reaction to her announcement. Andromache met it levelly, refusing to show any emotion, least of all the shame that was coursing through her violently. As she surveyed the room, she met the eyes of Hector, and wanted very dearly to fall over and die.

Eventually the men quieted enough for at least semi-civilized conversation to take hold, and immediately questions were launched.

"Why were we never informed of this?" demanded one outraged member of the Mytilian envoy.

"You were not informed because it was believed that there would be no concerns regarding it," Andromache answered. "Be assured, had we known that a problem would arise, you would have been informed before any treaty was made."

"This changes everything, Eetion!" another Mytilian snapped, jumping to his feet. "The entire treaty is now at question!"

"Is it?" Andromache inquired, outwardly calm even as she felt her grip on the situation slipping. "I do not believe it is. Should you wish to withdraw from the marriage agreement, it is your prerogative. However, we would like to mention that this would, in turn, alter any trade agreements between Mytilene and Thebe."

There was a murmuring at this, and Andromache knew why: Thebe was threatening to end trade between itself and Mytilene should the agreement be abolished. This would be a terrible blow to Mytilene's less-than-flourishing economy, and everyone in that room knew it.

"Blasted _woman_!" the first ambassador roared, looking furious. "What right have _you _to speak? Ignorant wench-"

"Speak in such a manner toward the princess again, Tarasios, and you will find just how fierce Theban warriors can be," Talos said coldly.

"You wouldn't _dare_," the second ambassador snarled.

"Wouldn't we?" Erastus demanded, rising dangerously.

This was getting out of control. "Gentlemen, please!" Andromache cried. She threw a panicked look to Alexander, who nodded encouragingly. His expression, however, showed that he was just as tense as she, if not more so.

"I am sure," she said when they all had returned slowly to their seats, "that we can discuss this as civilized people, rather than barbarians. I would like to hear what the Prince of Mytilene thinks of this, rather than what his ambassadors think, if I may."

All eyes shifted from her to Corydon, who gazed back at her with a neutral, yet almost amused, expression. "I see no reason," he said, "in breaking off the agreement. However," he added, thoroughly abolishing any rising hopes any of the Thebans may have had. "I do see that some adjustments should take place."

Alexander stood but did not come forward; the floor still belonged to Andromache, and he understood her reasons for taking it, even if he did not like it. "Within reason, Prince," he said, almost warningly.

"Naturally." Corydon stood, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking. Andromache felt her heart turn to lead and fall. "First, the dowry must increase. Second, the princess must relinquish all claim to any fortune. Her assets will be controlled by me, rather than herself, as we had originally planned. Third, the princess will never leave Mytilene. She will not venture outside the walls, even to pick a flower. Fourth, she will have no contact from outside the city walls. Absolutely no contact, in visit or writing."

The Thebans were on their feet instantly at this, crying out in outrage. Erastus was most furious, and had to be physically restrained by Othello and Hector of Troy, for fear of the Theban prince attacking Corydon. Hector himself hardly looked amused by what was taking place. If anything, he looked as if he wanted to take a hit at Corydon, himself. Andromache, however, was numb: Corydon was slowly cutting off her connections to her world outside of Mytilene, and she saw what he was doing perfectly.

She held up a hand for silence, her eyes never leaving Corydon's.

"By how much would the dowry increase?" she asked.

"_What_!" Demos shouted.

"This is madness, Andromache!" Erastus snarled. "_Madness_!"

"How," Andromache demanded in a hard voice, "much?"

"By half."

"Lower," she said before another bout of shouting could erupt.

"A quarter."

"An eighth," she countered.

Corydon examined her for a moment, then said, "An eighth. But this means that there is no negotiating my other terms. Take them as they are, or everything is abolished."

"You can't do that!" one of her father's advisors roared.

"He very well can, you imbecile!" a Mytilian ambassador bellowed. "_You _are the ones who failed to mention your princess's _deformity_!"

"_Do not insult my sister in such a manner again, you rat, or you will not live to do it again_!" Erastus roared.

"You wouldn't dare, you Theban pig!" the man snarled.

"_Coward_!" Orestes roared. "Fearful _wretch_! Insult a man in his own home, knowing he would not give retribution!"

"My mercy has it's limits!" Erastus snarled. "One wrong move, filth, and you will find yourself wishing you had never ventured into Thebe!"

"You dare threaten me!"

"Enough, all of you!" Andromache said loudly, desperately attempting to gain control of the situation.

"Keep your mouth shut, wench-"

"_ENOUGH!_"

Eetion was on his feet, and utterly furious. Belatedly, those who were still sitting, though they were few, rose to their feet. "I have had enough," Eetion grated out, his voice trembling in fury, "of such insolence. Another word against my daughter, and we will break all trade with Mytilene without hesitation, and not a single one of you will return to your home until your king has apologized your behavior and compensated my daughter for it appropriately!"

A heavy silence rang out after this statement. Through it all, Andromache remained bland and distant. _This is the end_, she thought.

"I accept your terms. We will depart for Mytilene in three days' time, at dawn."

She did not wait for the uproar that she knew would follow. She left, and did not acknowledge a single soul as she did so. As the doors closed behind her, she heard Erastus say, "Had my sister not just saved you, I would personally burn your cursed city to the ground! Watch your step, Prince of Mytilene, or you will find yourself with my blade in your chest!"


	10. Condemned

A/N: Is it horrible of me to say that the last chapter was really fun to write? Ah, what can I say; drama becomes me. At any rate, this chapter was pretty fun, too, but in a different way.

I'll shut up now and let you read.

Chapter Ten  
Condemned  
o0o

The mere thought of her rooms was confining and constraining, and so she walked into the gardens at the same fast, furious pace she had when she left the audience chamber. At one point, she turned a corner and found Metis. The girl looked about ready to speak, but Andromache held a hand up to stop her and continued on to the gardens; she did not have the patience, nor effort, to speak to anyone, let alone someone who would wish to show concern: it was far easier to be angry than to let the fear and grief take hold.

She was in the very back of the garden, pacing furiously, when he found her. Her head jerked up and saw him, and she shook her head with a sigh. Hector looked as if it was difficult to not succumb to a fit of anger. Andromache could not, despite this, bring herself to fear him: it was Hector, how could she fear him, even if he was angry?

She did not, however, acknowledge any of this. She simply whirled around and walked a few steps in the opposite direction.

"You agreed to them," he said, sounding furious. "You agreed to those terms!"

Andromache whirled around. "I had no choice, Hector!" she snapped. "What was I to do? Demand that he give me all of my freedoms? Had I not agreed to those terms, the betrothal would have been broken, and Mytilene would have declared war before their prince had even left our city!"

"Perhaps it would be best if the betrothal was broken!"

"Tell me, oh mighty Prince of Troy," she snarled, trembling in fury, "what should I have done? _Thebe cannot survive a war with Mytilene_!"

"I have spoken with your brother." Anger like she had never seen from him before seemed to radiate from him, and it made her want to sob even as she wanted to scream at him. "Thebe's army is not so weak as you make it out to be."

"If we declare war on Mytilene, we will not survive, and would you like to know why? _Because Mytilene has wanted to destroy us ever since Queen Ophelia's time_!" Andromache was beyond furious; her voice was loud enough that the only thing that kept their argument from reaching everyone else's ears was that they were so far into the gardens. "When she, a _woman_, helped King Obelix to defeat them, they were humiliated! Matters did not benefit from the fact that Obelix himself killed the heir to the Mytilian throne! They swore vengeance on us years ago! This is not a contest of wills, Prince of Troy! To the Mytilians, this is _honor_!"

"_Damn honor_!" Hector roared, and it was enough to make Andromache's mouth clamp shut. It was then that she realized that she needed to scream and yell at him, because that was the only thing keeping the tears at bay. Somehow, she managed to push them away, though it took an effort of will that she did not know she possessed. He looked at her, then with an angry sound shoved his fingers through his unruly curls.

"At this moment," she said, voice trembling, "I am the only thing that is standing between Thebe and utter devastation." Hector turned back to her; his anger seemed to be gone now. Andromache began to lose her battle with her tears as she said, "And I am a very weak defense."

Hector came over to her, cupping her face gently as the tears began to fall. He wiped them away with his thumbs, and her eyes slid closed. She crumpled as he gathered her to him, and shamelessly sobbed into his chest.

He let her cry, smoothing her hair and making no attempts to shush her or soothe her with false words and empty promises. She appreciated it more than words could tell, she simply didn't know how to convey it to him. Eventually her tears began to slow, and he pressed his lips to her temple.

"I am not angry with you, love," he murmured. "I am angry with what you have been forced to. I am angry that you are not receiving what you deserve."

"Please don't be angry on my behalf." She looked up at him with a slight sniffle. "There is enough anger on my behalf to last me several lifetimes."

He kissed her then, and it made her blood pound in her veins furiously, her breath come up short in her lungs, and her bones melt. Just when she thought that she would lose her mind, he pulled away and led her over to the wall, where he sat, leaning his back against the stone. She sat next to him, and he pulled her to him, encircling her protectively.

Andromache didn't let herself think. She simply sat there, feeling safe for one of the last times in her life. She did not want to think about the next two days, the last she would spend in Thebe. She did not want to think of what would happen as soon as she was outside the protection of her home and family. A few more tears slipped from under her eyelids, and she sniffled and gave a watery laugh. "Your clothing will be very wet," she warned.

"Pay it no mind," he murmured. They sat in silence for a few moments more, then he said hesitantly, "Andromache…"

When he didn't continue, she lifted her head and looked at him. "What is it?"

"I am trying to find the words," he explained, and she smiled and laid her head back on his chest.

"Say anything you like to me," she told him.

"Andromache, were I to ensure the safety of Thebe…"

"Yes?"

"Would you end the betrothal?"

Andromache smiled, but did not move herself. Rather, she said without hesitation, "In an instant, and I would never look back." She clutched at the cotton covering his chest with one delicate fist, and he covered her hand with his own.

"Perhaps you should return," he commented after a few more moments.

"No," she said quietly. "Please, let's stay a bit longer." After an instant's hesitation, she added, "I don't think I can face them."

In response to this, he wrapped his arms about her tighter and pressed his lips to her hair. "When I was younger," she murmured, her eyes growing heavy, "and my brothers were still young enough to play, we would pretend that I had to be rescued from… oh, from various things. Many of them were not far from what is facing us now. I never realized what the repercussions would truly be."

"Which is as it should be," Hector pointed out. "Children should be protected from the folly that is adulthood."

"I would hardly call it folly. As a whole, at least. Though adults are more likely to commit such less-than-intelligent acts."

They lapsed into silence again as Andromache struggled to keep herself awake. She lost the battle fairly quickly, and was asleep within moments.

o0o

When Andromache opened her eyes, it was dawn, and she was in her own bed. She laid there for several moments, watching the new sunlight as it played over the floor, slowly making its way across her room. Then she heaved a sigh and sat up, staring around her room for another moment or so, before climbing to her feet and bathing herself in a bath that Metis had already prepared for her.

The morning was late when she finally emerged from her rooms, clothed in plain white cotton. She was completely unadorned, though she was still pink from scrubbing; this day, she simply wanted to hide. She wandered into the gardens more out of habit than by choice, and was more than a little surprised when her niece nearly bowled her over.

"Where were you?" Nerissa demanded. "You said you would be at the festival last night."

"I am sorry, Nerissa," she said quietly. "I fell asleep, I never meant to miss it."

The girl glared at her and said, "It's all right. Mother is waiting for me, so I have to go, but you still have to make it up to me."

"I will try." The girl was running back to the palace, where Callidora stood waiting, before Andromache had finished saying the words. In truth, she wasn't sure if she was the proper person for the children to be spending time with, and thus it was with very little regret that she watched her niece go.

Within moments, she had slipped out the side entrance and was on the hilltop she had taken Hector to, before she had known who he was, before she had found herself in her situation. She sighed and settled herself on the grass, watching her city as its people slowly awoke, unaware that their very lives were in jeopardy.

She sighed and plucked a blade of grass, tying it in knots along its length. When she tied as many evenly-spaced knots as the length would allow, she set it in her lap and plucked another blade, giving it the same treatment and then tying it to the end of the other. When she had finished making the circle, she placed it delicately on her head, settling it over the veil as she had when she was a child. She reached out to begin making another one.

"I've been looking for you."

She looked up, and there stood Hector. Andromache smiled and gestured for him to sit beside her, which he did. "Have you, indeed?" she asked, her voice quiet. "I am honored."

He chuckled slightly, then reached up to brush the veil away from her face. "How are you?"

She sighed and looked back up at the city, watching as it slowly came alive. "Well enough," she murmured after a moment, looking back to the knotted blades of grass in her lap. "I never meant to cause such an uproar yesterday."

"You can hardly expect me to believe that you ever would intend such a thing," he commented.

They lapsed into silence. Andromache continued her knotting, a steady, continuous pattern that reassured her in its monotony. _Cross, through, tighten. Cross, through, tighten. _"Was it shameful of me?" she asked quietly, pausing in her movements.

"Was what shameful?" he murmured, toying with one of her curls.

Andromache turned to look at him. "I announced to the world that I am deficient, Hector," she said bluntly. "Women such as myself are often put to death for insolence, for all we never intend to be insolent, or relegated to the ranks of mistresses and whores."

His expression was slightly grieved, but also said that he strongly denied what she had said. "I am not completely naïve, Hector," she pointed out.

Hector sighed, adopting a rather grim expression and putting a hand to her hair. "You are not deficient," he said, quietly vehement. "What happened yesterday…" He shook his head and looked away, then returned his gaze to her. "If I could change it all for you, I would. You know that?"

"In some ways, yes," she answered, smiling sadly. "Though the timing in inconvenient for us both."

He laughed then, and said, "Indeed."

Yet another silence passed over them, and Andromache looked out over the city once more. "It is hardly a personal choice," she said quietly. "I have always, to some extent, wanted a family, and I have always gotten along well with children. Do they honestly think that I want to be like this? That it is intentional? The role of a woman is simple in theory: be silent and attractive, faithful to your husband, subservient to all men, and produce heirs. But has any man ever attempted this? We watch as the men in our lives run off to war, leaving us to wonder if they will return, for if they do not, they signal our doom. A woman may not rely on herself, but on the men in her life. Should those men not return, she is lost. We sit silently as we endure suppression and mistreatment. We hide any intelligence, for fear of dishonoring our men in some way. We watch as our husbands find their way into other women's beds. Yes, the role of a woman is simple, in theory. But how often is theory relevant to practicality?"

Andromache cast him a glance and an embarrassed smile. "I apologize," she murmured. "I should not have spoken so."

"No, I prefer your honesty," Hector replied.

"I speak not for myself, naturally, but for all women." She gave a wry smirk. "Clearly I have not watched my husband find his way to other women's beds, since I am not married as of yet."

"But your betrothed-"

"Let us not speak of it," she said, more like a request than a statement.

"Of course."

She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Would I be subject to the same punishments in Troy that I will in Mytilene?"

"Never," he said passionately, and Andromache thought she heard a trace of anger in his words. "Never would you be faced with such severe injustices."

Andromache smiled. "That is a reassuring thought. The gods smile on the future princesses of Troy, Cloris and whoever your brother may marry."

"Indeed," he replied, and his voice was inscrutable.

She leaned forward and plucked a wildflower. It was white and small but long and delicate. Andromache simply looked at it for a moment, gently brushing her finger against the silkiness of each petal. Then she gathered the grass wreathes gently and stood, and Hector stood with her. "I have two days remaining in my home," she commented. "I should like to spend at least one with my family." Andromache took his hand and placed the flower in the center of his large palm. "For you," she murmured. She cupped his cheek in her other hand and, feeling bold, gently pressed her lips to his.

"Thank you," she said quietly when she pulled away. "For everything."

She started to turn, but he grabbed her arm. "I do not believe this is goodbye yet, Andromache," he said quietly, and she smiled.

"No," she agreed. "We still have tomorrow."

o0o

"Chase! Chase, chase, chase, chase!"

Andreas remembered the game his aunt had taught him perfectly, and wanted desperately for her to play with him. She sighed heavily and said teasingly, "Oh, very well, Andreas. Would you like to be the marker, or shall I?"

"Chase!"

"You, then, I would assume." She got to her feet and said, "Is everyone playing?"

The resulting clamor was humorous as five children jumped to their feet and began pleading that they be allowed to play, as well. Alexander's oldest two stood also, albeit more sedately, willing to play such childish games for sake of their aunt.

It had made her want to cry, the fact that her oldest niece and nephew were old enough to understand what had taken place at the meeting the day before. But she forced it away and laughed at the eagerness of the younger children, and said, "Very well then! Andreas is our marker, is everyone ready?"

The unanimous "_Yes_!" was resounding, inducing Andromache to laugh again. "Then, _go_!"

There was a volley of delighted shrieks as all eight players each ran in different directions. Andromache's brothers, as well as their wives, watched from the side, Cohn's young wife cradling their newborn daughter gently. As Andreas caught his "victims," they fell to the ground in exaggerated fashions, wailing at their defeat.

"_No_!" cried Alexander's oldest daughter in mock anguish, who had thirteen years to her name and was a stage player at heart. "He has defeated me!"

Andreas' next target was his aunt, who "fell" easily. She simply stopped, stared at him for a moment, then dropped to the ground in a dead "faint." Andreas giggled in the insane way that young children do and dashed away to find his next victim.

Andromache rolled to her side, propping her head on her hand and her elbow in the grass. "Really, the lack of concern is galling," she said with an exaggerated sigh.

"Perhaps you should be relieved that he is not playing the game in the proper manner," Erastus suggested, and Andromache leveled a light glare at him.

"We," she informed him, "do not play the game as you barbarians do."

"We have told you," Demos reminded her, "that it is a training tool, not a game."

"And how many times was I the one to ensure you did not get an infection from the wounds caused by this 'training tool?'"

"It is not meant to be easy, sister," Cohn teased, taking his daughter from his wife.

"Barbarians," she shot at them.

"Weakling."

"Brutes."

"Weedling."

"Unintelligent thugs," she countered, then added. "'Weedling,' isn't a word."

"It is now."

Andromache was about to answer when Alexander's youngest, a four-year-old girl named Aure, bowled into her. She cried out in surprise as her brothers all laughed.

Sitting beside her husband, Megara had held a perpetual slight frown throughout the day, and Erastus was beginning to grow concerned. "Tell me, love," he said quietly so only she could hear, "what is it that troubles you?"

Megara scowled, looking down at her hands. "I do not understand," she said harshly, but quietly, "why every man from here to Greece was invited to watch your sister be verbally lashed by that rat of a prince and his rat ambassadors."

Erastus sighed as he watched Andromache struggle against five young children, all tickling her mercilessly. She let out a shriek and gasped out to her brothers, many of whom were still laughing, "This is not amusing!"

"It was Andromache's idea, love," he murmured, in no mood for laughing at the moment. "She wanted to gain their respect by announcing it to everyone at once. Not only this, but she has managed to find the only way to cut gossip in half."

"There was no need," Megara grated out, clenching her fists, "for the blasted envoys from Lampsacus and Troy to be there."

"Ask Andromache why they were in attendance," he said dryly. "It was by her request." He took his wife's hand, gently unclenching her fist. "Come now, she only has two days left with us. Let us at least pretend to be happy. For her."

Andromache had absolutely no knowledge of this as it took place: she was too busy struggling to breathe as her nieces and nephew piled on top of her without remorse. "I surrender!" she cried, very near to suffocating thanks to her laughter. "I surrender, let me breathe!"

The children relented, though it took some coaxing to get the younger ones off. She giggled a little, then flopped back. "I do believe that I am finished, my friends," she said rather breathlessly. She sat back up and stood. "I am going to go speak with your parents for now. Continue playing if you will."

As Andromache made her way over to where her siblings sat, she her Andreas yell, "Chase!" and the replying shrieks as the other children ran from him.

"Andromache, dearest, I do believe you have been bested," Demos teased.

She let out a short laugh and said, "I would like to see you pit yourself against seven children, five of which are completely merciless, and come out unscathed."

"You see, sister, we have the knowledge to not enter such a contest. No one would come out of that unscathed."

"And you call me the weakling," she muttered good-humouredly. "Cowards."

"We prefer the term 'cautious,' to 'cowardly,'" Talos said, ruffling her hair.

"Many cowards do," she said brightly.

"Excuse me, Princess?"

They all turned to see a servant standing a few yards away. "The King would like to see you, Princess," he said softly.

Andromache stood and nodded. "Excuse me," she said to her family, following the servant into the palace. Her father was waiting for her on a pavilion, and her mother was with him. the servant gestured for her to step out onto the marquee, and she nodded her thanks as she stepped out to greet her father.

"Andromache," Eetion said in greeting, smiling as he enfolded his daughter in a hug. "Come, sit with us."

Andromache followed her father to where Anatola sat, placing herself across from her parents. "How are you this morning, dearest?" Anatola asked as Andromache reached for a cup that was filled with water.

"Well enough, all permitting," she answered nonchalantly, as if nothing drastic had happened.

"Andromache…"

It was clear that her father was having some difficulty articulating his thoughts, and so she said, "You wish to speak to me about yesterday?"

"We do," Anatola replied. "But before you state yourself, I have a question."

"I may have an answer."

"Why so many people, Andromache?" Anatola asked, reaching for her daughter's hand. Andromache took it; her mother's fingers were icy. "Why did you let them all come?"

She sighed. "I did not expect many to understand. In fact, I believe many of my brothers are angry with me for it. My initial goal had been to establish myself as a person worth reckoning. Should something go wrong, I would like for the world to see us as a strong nation, however militarily weak we may be." She did not add her second reason for the presence of the Trojan envoy.

She had thought long and hard on the subject of inviting the foreign emissaries to the meeting, and in the end had allowed a personal choice to rule her decision: in some odd way, she owed it to Hector. Or, at least, that was her view. She had questioned herself over and over on the wisdom of the decision; why on earth would she owe Hector such an explanation?

She never found an answer to her question, and out of fear of that answer could have been, did not dwell on it longer. She extended the invitation to the Trojans and, to be fair, the emissaries from Lampsacus. She did not dare think on it longer.

"A noble thought," Eetion told her. "But _why_? Why did you accept it?"

"I did what I had to do," she said, her voice gentle but firm.

"We could have let him declare war, Andromache," Eetion said.

She shook her head. "Not in good conscience. Even if we could have withstood a war with Mytilene, the cost would be too great." She gently set the cup back on the stone table and folded her hands in her lap. "I refuse to let my people suffer while there is still something I might do to prevent it," she said evenly.

Anatola leaned backward to rest on the back of her chair, admitting defeat. Eetion sighed and looked at his lap. "Very well," he said grimly, looking back up at her. "But I want you to come to me should anything, _anything_, alter your decision. If there is a way you will change your mind and save yourself from this, I will do all that I can to ensure that Thebe remains the home you will die to protect."

Andromache smiled and took her father's hand. "Should anything bring my determination to question, I will inform you," she promised. Then she kissed her parents goodbye and left for her chambers.

She had lied. Her determination had been brought to question days ago, before everything had taken such a drastic turn for the worse. But such was the price she paid for falling for the Prince of Troy.


	11. The Last Day

A/N: Happy Easter! A gift for you all: an even faster update! And for our Jewish friends… a Passover gift. And anyone else… um… I can't think of any nearby holidays, so you just get a gift.

Though, unfortunately, Spring Break will very soon be over, and that means updates that aren't nearly so fast. But I'll do my best!

Now, things get a little teary (I say that because I got teary writing it - don't laugh at me!) in this chapter, which means some people may be a bit out of character; I apologize for it now. But let's keep in mind, this is fairly traumatic for these poor people! I know I'd be acting odd if I were in their situation!

Oh! And, Queen Arwen, I don't mind at all. In fact, I'm very flattered and honored! Thank you so much for nominating this!

Chapter Eleven  
The Last Day  
o0o

She spent the day with her family, never leaving the company of at least one family member, and it was only with great persuasion that she attended the masked banquet that evening.

The sixth night of the festival was always celebrated by the infamous matchmaking-tool-turned-form-of-entertainment. Despite Corydon's words nearly a week before, Andromache dressed herself in elegant royal blue cotton, placed a full veil, which covered her face, over her head, and attended. It was the least he could do for her, since he was ripping her so forcefully away from her home; as it was, she never intended him to find out. With Metis keeping guard with the ready excuse that Andromache was feeling ill, Corydon need never know that his betrothed was disobeying his orders.

By the time she slipped into hall, the evening was already in motion. She very deliberately avoided most of the men in the room, slinking around the edge of hall as she watched the crowds. Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm, and she turned with a gasp.

"My lady, if I were to not recognize you by now, I would have myself flogged," Hector murmured in her ear.

"I would say that a mistake has been made on my part, given that the object it to be _un_recognizable," she countered.

"Yes, but somehow I doubt there are many others who know you as well as I do, Princess of Thebe."

"My brothers do," she pointed out. "And perhaps your brother may. I have become quite fond of him, I'll have you know. He is very much like the wayward little brother I never had."

"Clearly he has not shown you every aspect of his personality," he said dryly. "Besides, I do believe he is occupied by a woman in red silk. As for your brothers, they are very clearly spoken for, by women who are very clearly their wives."

"My sisters never attend anonymously, and wisely so. Some women have lost their virtue to the wrong man when all have had too much of the wine."

"You are not afraid, I assume, for your virtue?"

She smiled and leaned a bit closer to him. "I was looking for you, Prince of Troy. I have nothing to fear."

"I see," he commented. "Rather presumptuous of you, don't you think?"

"Oh, I can leave, if you'd like," she said innocently, stepping away. Hector grabbed her arm once more, preventing her escape.

"I would rather you didn't," he murmured.

Andromache cast a glance around the crowded feasting hall, then said, "I really only came to see you. I'm thinking of leaving, it's too loud for my tastes here."

"I agree with you, and I'm sure I won't be missed," he replied. Without warning, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out a side entrance. They were in the stables in moments, and Andromache sighed in relief when they were truly on their own at last.

"The presence of most people has become oppressive as of late," she commented, lifting her veil away from her face as Hector moved to a stall.

He spared her a glance that she couldn't read. "Understandably."

She sighed as he entered the stall, and followed him stubbornly. "I am trying not to think of it," she informed him flatly.

"I made no mention of it," he pointed out.

Andromache bit her lip, looking away and feeling like a wretch. She had made a discovery the night before, and a fairly large one at that. It was not momentous, nor did it bowl her over as a toy boat caught in one of the sea storms she had heard about. The realization had been quiet, subtle, and had very nearly reduced her to tears of despair: she was in love with Hector.

Worse, she didn't know when exactly it had happened.

She stepped towards him hesitantly and placed a tentative hand on his arm. "I had to do it," she said quietly. "For Thebe. Please tell me that you understand."

"I understand," he said, not looking at her. "It does not mean, however, that I have to agree."

Andromache took a step back and kept her eyes to the ground, more hurt than she cared to admit, as Hector began grooming Eros. After a moment, she turned, heading for the doorway and saying quietly, "Perhaps I should go."

"Andromache."

She stopped, her hand on the door post, and looked back at him. Andromache could read absolutely nothing in his gaze, and so refused to move. He sighed after a moment and ran his hand through his hair restlessly. "Come here."

Andromache frowned at him, slightly perturbed at the abrupt treatment.

"Please," he added.

She pursed her lips and went over to him. "Neither of us want this to happen, Hector, I assure you," she informed him with no small amount of irritation in her tone. "What choice do I have? You _know _why I have to do this. You have heard it many times over."

"I do believe," he replied just as tersely, "that I am more troubled by the amount of dislike I have for the idea."

Andromache's frown was as confused as it was annoyed. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," he said with forced patience, "that this disturbs me more than it has the right to. Do you realize how difficult it has been to keep myself from murdering that betrothed of yours? I am not prone to violent tendencies, Princess."

"You sound like my brothers," she accused.

"For good reason. They mean well, Andromache."

"And I do not?" she yelled suddenly, stumbling back a step and staring at him with a mixture of anger and hurt. "Clearly everyone in this palace thinks me a complete imbecile, since every one of my decisions has been questioned to no end, despite the fact that each of them has been made with the very best of intentions!" Hector turned to face her completely with remorse in his gaze. "I want to protect them, Hector," she told him. "I want my family to live the lives they deserve, and I want my people to carry the soul of my country through the ages. I want them to lead long, happy lives, and have good homes, and good families, and a chance at life. I am making a sacrifice for the greater good of Thebe, and I'm doing it willingly. I am _nothing _compared to the lives that could be saved."

Hector sighed and came toward her, grabbing her and pulling her to him. "You are everything," he muttered vaguely. "I'm sorry. I understand your motives, and I questioned you still."

Andromache shook her head. "No more," she said, though her words were slightly muffled by the blue cotton covering his chest. "Let us not speak of it. With so little time left, I don't want to spend it arguing."

"I agree," he murmured. He seemed vaguely distracted, as if he were thinking on something with his whole mind, and Andromache looked up at him, resting her cheek against one strong shoulder.

"Is something wrong?"

Hector sighed. "Everything is wrong, Andromache," he replied. "And yet none of it is a recent development."

o0o

Her last day in Thebe dawned bright and warm, the sunlight dancing across her room cheerfully. She smiled bitterly at the irony and rolled over, burying her face in her pillow and wishing she could make her troubles disappear. Just as she was beginning to fall back into slumber, one of her rare sources of peace as of late, there was a loud thud on her door.

Andromache sighed and stood, padding quietly over to the door and hauling it open. She blinked at the young woman who stood on the other side. "Cloris," she said, surprised.

"Good morning, Andromache," she said quietly.

Andromache stepped aside, gesturing for Cloris to enter. The younger woman did so, twisting the corner of her veil nervously in her hands. Andromache smiled at her, hoping to be reassuring. "Would you like anything to drink?" she asked, turning to the small table that held two pitchers, one filled with water and the other with wine, and several cups.

"No, actually," Cloris replied. "I cannot stay long, I fear. I only wanted to speak with you for a moment."

Andromache turned back to face her, a concerned look clouding her features. "Speak. I am at your disposal."

Cloris looked at her as if she were about to speak, and then with a frustrated noise began to pace anxiously. Andromache watched her, slightly more than concerned now. She had never seen the even-tempered Cloris in such a state, and it bothered Andromache to see it now. "Andromache, I fear I have condemned my home," Cloris said finally.

"How so?" she asked gently.

"I-" Cloris stopped; she seemed to have difficulty forcing the words out, and not because of any physical inhibition.

"It's all right," Andromache said in much the same way she spoke when she was coaxing a niece or nephew. "Say what you need."

"I- I think…" Cloris' voice was trembling violently, and Andromache walked over and guided the Princess of Lampsacus to a chair. "I think I have fallen in love with your brother."

Andromache froze, staring at the younger woman with wide eyes. Her insides felt as if they had turned to lead, and her head was numb, completely blank. She only barely managed to fall into another chair, the breath in her lungs having been stolen away. "_What_?" she breathed.

"I never meant to!" Cloris cried as tears began to well in her eyes and trickle down her cheeks. "He was so kind to me, and he listened to me, as they do you! I felt… like an _equal_. For the first time in my life, I was an _equal_! Andromache…" Cloris sniffled and looked up at the older woman with red-rimmed eyes. "I can't marry the Prince of Troy. He is good and kind and just, but I cannot marry him. What am I to do?" she whispered brokenly.

Andromache refused to allow herself to think. She simply acted, which, at the moment, was for the best. She stood and went over to Cloris, pulling her into a reassuring hug. The Princess of Lampsacus sobbed into her shoulder for several long moments. When she had calmed down enough for coherent conversation, Andromache stood and went to fetch a two cloths. One she wetted in the basin filled with water, and the other she left dry.

She gave the dry cloth to her friend, who wiped her tears away and blew her nose gently, and then Andromache gave her the wet cloth. Cloris held it first to one eye, and then the other, in order to bring down the redness and swelling.

"Which brother," Andromache asked gently after a moment, "do you refer to?"

"Othello," Cloris answer thickly.

She nodded vaguely, frowning as a small glimmer of anger flared up inside her. Did Othello realize what he was doing? Did he realize the danger he was putting Thebe in?

Andromache stopped herself immediately, feeling incredibly guilty. What had she been doing with Hector for the past week? Discussing cloud formations? She clamped her lip between her teeth. No, she was just as guilty as Othello. More so, even, for Troy and Lampsacus were much less belligerent than Mytilene.

"Andromache," Cloris begged, "what do I do?"

_I am not the one to answer that question, my friend, _she thought sadly. Andromache went over to her friend and knelt before her, taking Cloris' hand and attempting to be reassuring. "Do what you feel is right, Cloris," she said gently. "Go somewhere quiet and alone, and think over the choices you could make, and what could happen should you make that choice. Do not return until your have examined everything. Then return and make your action. If you have made the right choice, then your heart will stand firm."

It was a lie. But Cloris' situation was far less desperate than Andromache's and so she felt very little shame in giving her friend the advice she so desperately wanted to follow. Cloris nodded, then nodded again, more firmly.

"Thank you," the Princess of Lampsacus said gratefully. "You are the wisest person I know, man or woman. I pray that your life follows a good path."

"And I pray the same for you," Andromache replied. Cloris gave her a shaky smile in return, then left quietly.

Only then did Andromache allow her knees to buckle. How had this happened? Under her very nose, no less? Had she really become so negligent towards her family? She looked out across her balcony: the sun was well above the horizon.

_I must look past this, _she told herself firmly. _This is my last day with those I love, I will not waste it dwelling on things that are now beyond my control._

o0o

"Surrendering so quickly, Andromache?" Erastus teased as she sat ungracefully by a fountain, a hand to her chest and her cheeks flushed.

"I believe we had this discussion yesterday, dearest brother. I would like to see you challenge five children on your own."

"Yes, and we stated then that we were not foolish enough to partake in such a test," Erastus pointed out.

Andromache sighed. "Yes, I suppose I must surrender," she said.

Erastus' look was suddenly grim: he knew what her meaning was. She was admitting to loosing an argument, which she never did, even if the argument was a game. It was more of a goodbye than the words themselves, and it angered him all over again to hear it.

"Come," he said, standing and offering his hand. "Our family is going to have a noon meal together."

"Of course," she replied, slipping her hand into his and letting him help her to her feet. The children saw them standing and came over to them.

"Are we going in now?" Aure asked, reaching for Andromache's hand.

"Yes," Erastus replied. "Food beckons."

This was generally well-received, and after Andromache had gathered Andreas and held Aure's hand in hers, the large group began to make its way to the dining hall.

o0o

She found Hector in the stables later, some time around mid afternoon. Andromache bit her lip viciously, unsure of she even wanted to speak to him of what Cloris had said. She hovered a few steps from the stall door, half hoping she could simply slip away unnoticed.

"I haven't much time. A meeting has been called, and I must attend. So if you wish to speak, I suggest you do it soon, before I have to leave."

Andromache closed her eyes with a quiet sigh. _Too late, _she thought grimly. She went to the entrance to the stall and leaned against one post. "I spoke with Cloris today."

"Did you? The envoy from Lampsacus called the meeting I must attend." He grinned at her teasingly. "Did you do something to alienate them against me?" He turned back to his horse, a beast she didn't recognize.

"I think I may have destroyed your betrothal," she said, clenching her eyes shut. When she opened them, he was looking at her questioningly. "I certainly didn't mean to. She came to me, and she was terribly upset, and I-"

"Andromache," Hector said, holding up a hand to cease her words and looking highly amused. "I can hardly understand a word you're saying."  
"I truly believe she never meant-"

"Stop," he said, very near to laughing at her. "We will discuss this later. I must go."

He kissed her forehead, and Andromache heaved a sigh to the horse that was staring at her with an expression that said, "You really aren't as smart as everyone thinks you are, are you?"

"You needn't rub it in," she snapped at the beast. Then she looked up to the heavens with a groan. "And now I am speaking to those who cannot reply. My sanity has fled."

With that she turned and left to go spend more time with her family.

o0o

She spent the rest of her day quietly, with her family and friends. Paris and Cloris each joined her, though Paris for longer, and she welcomed their company fervently. Andromache struggled against the passing of the sun, knowing that each passing moment was one less moment of happiness. As the day wore on, a sense of dread only continued to press down on her as her impending doom drew near.

At sundown, she met with her family. The meal was quiet and somber, and even the children seemed to feel that this was some how a finality. Everyone tried to force conversation and lightheartedness, but no one succeeded: they all knew that after that night, Andromache would be at the mercy of a man who had been revealed to be much less than honorable.

When the meal was over, it was late enough that Andromache needed to begin thinking of her bed; she had an early morning ahead of her. And so she gathered the children to her, including the baby, and sat on the floor, where they clustered around her.

"Why is everyone sad, Amdroche?" Alcander asked her, leaning on her leg and looking up at her plaintively.

"I'm going away tomorrow," she replied, doing her best to keep her voice light.

"Oh," Nerissa said, fighting back a yawn. "When will you be back?"

_They're children, you had to expect them to ask that, _she reminded herself when she felt tears prickle her eyes. "I'm not coming back, lovely," she said. "I'm getting married, remember?"

"Yes," Alexander's oldest son, Lander, said bitterly. He was fourteen, nearly fifteen, and very much his father's son. "To a dishonorable pig."

"Lander!" Alexander's wife said in shock as her son turned and marched away furiously.

As he did this, his thirteen-year-old sister, Eleni, jumped to her feet. The girl had a taste for the dramatic, but her speechlessness seemed genuine as she opened her mouth and, when she couldn't find the words, she made an upset noise and stomped her foot, then turned and fled, running after her brother.

"Eleni!" the poor woman snapped. "I'll go after them," she murmured to her husband, then rushed out of the room with an apologetic glance to Andromache.

Andromache smiled sadly, then turned to her other nieces and nephews, who were now looking quite forlorn, and many were on the verge of tears. The only one who wasn't in such a state was the baby, who was gazing up at her with innocently ignorant eyes. Andromache was more than a little envious.

"Please don't be upset," she said to the children. "You are all going to grow up and live happy lives, and I'll be joyful because I knew you."

"You won't visit?" Halia, Alexander's nine-year-old, asked with an upset frown.

Andromache shook her head, "I'm sorry, dearest. I can't."

It continued on the vein of Andromache's departure until it took a gigantic effort to force her smiles and the children were in tears. Even the baby, little Hyacinth, looked forlorn, but perhaps that was the overactive imagination of a distraught Theban princess.

"I think it's time we all went to bed," Alexander said quietly. His two youngest daughters, the only remaining children he had in attendance (his older two having stormed out), both nodded sadly. Andromache waved the forward, handing Hyacinth to her mother, and hugged Halia and Aure tightly.

"I love you both," she said quietly. "Behave yourselves, and look after your father for me. Good night."

"Good night," they muttered very nearly in unison, and they left for their family's chambers as Andreas crawled into Andromache's lap.

"Nerissa, Alcander," she said, swallowing hard in order to keep her voice steady. Both of Demos' children came forward, and she hugged them each, reminded them that she loved them, and said, "Remember to take care of your mother for me, and to behave for her. I won't be here to look after you when she's ill."

They both nodded, and Nerissa burst into tears and ran for her mother, who picked the girl up despite the fact that she had no business picking up eight-year-old children. With a glance to her husband, she took her children to their chambers.

Andreas was the only child remaining. Knowing he was too young to understand the goodbyes she had given to the other children, she stood, gathering the small boy in her arms. "I can't play chase with you anymore, lovely."

He gave a small whimper and buried his face in her shoulder. Andromache fought back another onslaught of tears as she kissed the boy's head and passed him to his mother, who took him and fled. Andromache was then left with her brother, all of whom looked very sad, an expression that was not typical of any of them.

"In the morning," she said quietly. "No more for tonight. I can't bear it. But, if any of those girls, or any girls to come, are forced into a situation such as mine, I will kill you myself."

With that she silently retreated, but she did not go to her rooms: she still had one goodbye to take care of before she could retire.

She found him pacing in the rear of the garden, looking aggravated and anxious. His hair was in a state of disarray. _No, _she thought fondly. _A state of chaos. Disarray is more typical of him._ "Hector," she called softly, and he stopped to look at her.

Very suddenly he was directly before her, and his large hands were on her shoulders. "You can't do this," he said vehemently, though his voice was low.

"What?" she demanded, truthfully bewildered. Her mind was still slow with melancholy, thanks to the goodbyes she had been forced to say to her nieces and nephews.

"You can't let him enslave you!" he cried, giving her a small shake. "I can't allow you to let it happen."

Andromache realized then what he was implying, and she backed out of his grasp, shaking her head forebodingly. "Hector," she said warningly.

"My betrothal is over, and I cannot bring myself to regret it," he told her, confirming her suspicions that Cloris had ended the betrothal. "I have nothing to fear from an announcement of intentions."

"Hector, no," she said firmly.

"'No,' what?" he snapped.

"You can't," Andromache said.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Why can't I?" he demanded.

"Because I won't allow it," she said, her voice growing louder.

"Why won't you?" he demanded harshly. "Do you _want _to marry Corydon?"

"No-"

"Does the idea of slavery through marriage _appeal _to you?"

"Of course not-"

"Is it your wish the thrust me away?"

"_Stop it_!" she cried, tears prickling her eyes. "Just, stop it! I won't allow it!"

"_Why_?" he shouted.

"Because I won't have you risking your life for me!" she yelled at him. The tears were falling down her cheeks now, and she wiped them away furiously, angry with herself for letting them fall. "I will _not _let you risk your country and your family for me!"

He stopped and looked at her with a sigh. There was an odd mixture of emotions in his eyes: there was anger and frustration, but also grief and affection. "I won't allow it," she reiterated quietly, struggling to get her tears in check.

Hector came forward one again, and his grip was gentler this time as he slid his hands onto her shoulders.

"I can't let you," she said, choking back a sob. "I can't let you risk your life for me."

"It is mine to risk," he countered quietly.

She closed her eyes, wishing he would stop making her feel so miserable, even though she knew he did not intend to. Andromache opened her eyes and reached up, resting a hand on his jaw. His light beard was rough under her palm; she felt her heart break. She swallowed in an attempt to solidify her voice. "If I go through with this," she said, doing her best to make her voice even through the tears, "then I can keep you all safe. Thebe, my family, you. I can save you all."

"You shouldn't have to save me."

A light sob escaped her, and she placed her hand on his unruly curls. "I love you too much not to," she said tearfully.

He crushed her to him, claiming her mouth passionately, and she responded even as more tears burned their way down her cheeks. He deepened the kiss, and she clung to him tightly, knowing that it was the last time she would ever see him like this. It ended as suddenly as it had begun, and Hector pressed his face to her neck.

"Promise me," she whispered, her voice wavering. "Promise me you won't challenge him. Please. If I go to Mytilene knowing that you will live on, I will survive, I will. I _can't _let you risk yourself for me." Hector did not reply, only pulled her tighter to him. She clung to him desperately, struggling with her tears.

How long they stood there, clutching each other as if the very world depended on it, Andromache couldn't say. Eventually, however, they both relaxed, and Andromache sank to the ground. She gave a humorless, albeit rather watery, chuckle.

"The last time I cried like this, I thought my brother was dead," she commented hoarsely as Hector lowered himself to the ground beside her.

He did not reply, only smoothed her hair gently away from her face, then tenderly wiping the wetness of her cheeks with his callused fingers. "I have never had a way with women," he commented quietly after several moments of silence. "I have always been more introverted than most, and have never handled myself well in social situations. Formal meetings and battlefield conferences I can handle, but put me in a social setting, and I automatically become reclusive. But with you…" He gave a wholly humorless laugh and shook his head. "How is it that I find the one person with whom I am completely at home, and now I find her being ripped from me?"

There was nothing to say in response to this, and she knew it. So she simply laid her head on his shoulder, clutching his tunic in delicate hand. Hector wrapped his arms about her, running his hand along her curls gently.

Neither slept that night, nor moved until the sun began rise in the east.


	12. Goodbye and Deliverance

A/N: This took forever not because of school, but because I'm currently suffering from a six-day-long migraine headache. So if this chapter's a bit off, you know why, lol. But also, because of my headache, the next chapter may take even longer, because it's a big one - big turning point - and I want to do it right. It's hard to do that with a migraine. So be prepared for a bit of a wait; hopefully I'll make it worth your time!

Chapter Twelve  
Goodbye and Deliverance  
o0o

The gray light of false dawn blanketed Thebe when Andromache stepped into the square. An entire assembly was gathered to see her off, and in truth it was rather intimidating. The whole affair was difficult enough, she did not want it to take place under the eyes of every human being in the palace. She wore black linen and safely inconspicuous jewelry; anything that could have traced its roots to Thebe was tucked safely away.

All seven of her brothers stood in a line, their respective wives standing with them, and their children were still abed, at Andromache's request. Cloris and Paris stood with their respective envoys; their presence was, as far as the world knew, purely ceremonial, but both guests knew what was waiting for the only Princess of Thebe when she left her home.

Hector was no where to be seen, which she had expected. "I doubt my ability to stand there peacefully and not strike him down were he stands," he had told her earlier that morning, and she had believed him.

Secretly, however, she knew it would be easier to leave if she did not see him standing there, wanting her to stay.

She said her formal goodbyes to her father's advisors, all of whom were glowering fiercely at the Mytilian envoy, and then went and said goodbye to her guests. Paris did not speak, outside of wishing her a full and happy life, and Andromache could see that he liked this about as much as her brothers did. Had the situation not been so serious, it would have been amusing: young Paris of Troy, infamous for his womanizing ways, being found in a brotherly state of severe resentment over the princess that was nearly two years older than him and from another nation.

Cloris, however, was in tears. "It isn't fair," the younger girl said quietly.

"Very few things are."

"Everything has worked out for me," she protested. "Why can it not work out for you as well?"

Andromache forced a smile, hoping to appear calm. "We must take what the gods give us," she said, though she had never truly believed those words herself. "Othello has always been my rashest brother. Keep him in line for me."

Cloris nodded, and Andromache went to say goodbye to her brothers. They were all very steadfast about the situation: never once did they mention their loathing for her betrothed, nor their anger at the whole of Mytilene for dragging her away.

Not even their cooperation, however, made it easier to bear. It became more and more difficult to hold up appearances as she proceeded down the line; when she came to Erastus, who was last, it was very difficult to maintain her brave front, which become a more of a lie as the seconds passed.

She forced a smile for him, grabbing his hands. "Look after them all for me," she said. "I can't play mother anymore."

"Oh, you can play mother," he said, doing his best to tease her. His ploy didn't entirely work, and they were left with the mournful, forced humor that it typical of such solemn situations. "You simply can't play it as well as before."

"Don't poke fun," she admonished gently. Andromache hugged her brother fiercely. "This is for you, and for Thebe," she said so that only he could hear. "Protect her for me."

"Always."

She forced another smile for him and moved to say her farewells to her parents. Her mother was as staunchly avoiding tears as Andromache herself, and her father looked severely aggrieved. Their goodbyes were quiet and simple, and before she knew it her goodbyes were over, and there was nothing between her and departure.

She faced Corydon and his ambassadors calmly, and they looked back at her in much the same manner. Corydon gestured to a sedan chair, the sides of which had red silk curtains to hide her from curious eyes, particularly those belonging to men with less honorable intentions. She lifted her chin slightly, determined to not create any sort of scene, and took a step towards the sedan.

"_Andromache_!"

She whirled around, her heart leaping into her throat at the panicked tone in the young girl's voice. Eleni, with Lander not a step behind her, came barreling down the steps, tears on her cheeks and her dark hair flying out behind her. Immediately Andromache opened her arms to them, and the both of them combined nearly knocked her over.

She sighed heavily as she hugged them both. "It's all right," she said quietly.

"No it isn't," Lander said, stepping back and glaring at Corydon furiously. Eleni simply hugged her aunt tighter.

"Yes, Lander, it is," Andromache insisted, gently taking the young man's chin in her hand and forcing him to look at her. "I chose this."

"But-"

"I never spent enough time with either of you, and now it's too late," she said quietly. "But I have a task for you."

"Anything," Eleni said with a thick voice, pulling away and wiping her eyes. Lander nodded in agreement.

"Look after your cousins for me. Make sure your father and your uncles smile. Be courteous to our guests for me for the remainder of their stay. Can you do those things for me?"

Both nodded, and she hugged them once more before turning to leave once more.

"Wait!" Lander said, grabbing her hand. "Wait. I'm sorry, for yesterday-"

"Think nothing of it." She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I'm sure you will make us all very proud." Then she turned to Eleni, who had managed to gain control of her tears, even if it was only scarcely. "And you, my dear, will be one of the greatest princesses Thebe has ever seen, I'm sure." She gripped one of Eleni's hands in one of her own, and one of Lander's in her other, and said, "Look after everyone for me. I expect you to take my place. You are the only ones old enough to understand."

Lander looked away with an abrupt, angry nod of agreement, and his sister nodded in a much saddened manner. Andromache kissed them both, then turned and went to where Corydon stood waiting for her. He helped her into the sedan, a perfunctory, obligatory gesture, and she arranged herself with a delicate pride that she had resolved herself to. Corydon himself reached over her, without a word, and lowered the red silk hangings.

Instantly her view of her family and court was obscured, and the falling of the gossamer material seemed to hold a sense of finality. With a lurch that made Andromache cling to the side of the sedan, the Mytilian slaves raised the seat and began walking forward.

o0o

As soon as she became used to the motion of the sedan, Andromache had let herself sleep, and when she awoke at midday, they were halfway to Antandrus, from which they would depart by sea to the island of Lesbos, on which Mytilene was located. Mytilian control extended over more than simply the island of Lesbos, however; this she knew from historical and political lessons from her father and brothers.

During the war between Thebe and Adramytium, called by Thebans the Trade Disputes, Antandrus had fallen victim to raids from Adramytium, who had been in desperate need for supplies. When Adramytium was forced to retreat and begin peace arrangements, they left Antandrus a weak nation, susceptible to attack, and Mytilene had taken advantage. Antandrus was soon under Mytilian control, and Adramytium had made alliances with the belligerent Mytilians out of fear as they made alliances with Thebe to prevent further war.

Andromache knew this well, and she also knew a few - though hardly enough to get by - of Mytilene's customs and practices. She had begun to question her knowledge, given that she had never had any idea of the child-bearing law. When she heard the chinking of chains and the occasional crack of a whip, however, her stomach sank: perhaps she had not been wrong about all of the practices, after all.

The fields of wheat were still in places, for the day was windless, but where it was not still it was being harvested by slaves. There were long strings of them, many of whom were joined by chains attached to collars around the necks. The sun had burned them, severely in many cases, and well nigh all of them were dehydrated. The over keepers, with their red robes and skins of water, held whips in their hands and had blades at their waists, and all were on horses, giving them the advantage of height as well. One of them raised his whip and struck a man in the back: the slave winced, but did not pause in his movements, and Andromache flung herself back in horror.

Such treatment was acceptable? The very idea was horrendous, and made her innards twist with fury. Slaves or not, they were still human beings! She snatched up one of the pillows that cushioned the her sedan and began twisting the silk with a viciousness to rival any warrior. She could hardly bring herself to care for the delicate material's ruin: it was Mytilian silk, and she, despite her marriage to the Mytilian Prince, would _never_ be a Mytilian.

It was not long before they lurched to a stop, and Andromache was nearly thrown into the wooden end of the sedan as she was flung forward. The sedan was lowered, and she flung the curtains aside and was out before anyone had the chance to offer her aid.

Corydon saw the look on her face and smirked in amusement. "How are you, my dear? Well, I trust?"

Her goodbye to Hector, leaving her home and family, the slaves, it all built into one single emotion until she could hardly find what to do with it. Andromache marched over to where Corydon stood and slammed the now-ruined pillow into his chest as hard as she could.

"I am _not _well, and more than likely will not _be _well until I'm dead," she hissed dangerously. "Nor am I your dear, as we both well know. I do not want to be here, and you do not want me to be here, so let us simply stop to rest the servants and continue on with our little play-act, shall we?"

He smirked at her again. "Bold words from a weak princess."

"The last time you said those words to me, I told you that not even the gods would save you from me should you hurt my country, my family, or my people," she said, glaring at him with a sort of noble, proud anger. "Those words still hold true, Prince of Mytilene."

Corydon merely smirked at her, for he knew the truths of the matter just as well as she: Andromache had no power anymore. What power should could have would be given to her by Corydon, and she was sure that he would give her absolutely none, and then take away what little she had left.

This did not, however, diminish her staunch defense of her home and people. If anything, she it only strengthened her resolve: she had nothing left but her dignity, but by the gods she would ensure that Thebe and her loved ones had more than blasted _dignity_, or else the gods themselves would pay. And so, when her gaze did not lessen in its infuriated pride and defense, Corydon's face darkened.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, gripping viciously; Andromache swore that her bones touched each other, but she refused to show pain. "Listen to me, Princess," he hissed at her quietly. "You no longer have those fools you have for brothers to protect you, nor that imbecile of a father to defend you. You are _mine _now, and will behave appropriately."

"So long as you do the same in return," she said between clenched teeth.

Corydon flung her away, directly into the armored chest of a soldier who had been standing behind her. "To Antandrus!" he snarled, and immediately the convoy prepared to leave.

Andromache was taken to the sedan and placed in it, the curtains drawn to hide her from the world, and the world from her. Even then, however, she refused to let the tears fall, and simply snatched up another pillow and attacked its silk coverings just as she had the first pillow.

Perhaps she could not attack the Prince of Mytilene, but she could victimize the pillows all she wanted.

o0o

The sun was setting as they reached Antandrus. There were no walls around the city: the largest structure was the small palace in the center, which was the place Andromache was taken to directly. Her fury having subsided, for the greatest part, she allowed Corydon to help her out. Immediately she was passed to another soldier.

"Take her to the women's quarters. I must deliver the commands to the men stationed at

Adramytium," Corydon said.

"Yes, my lord," the soldier said, and immediately he began dragging Andromache up the wide, tall steps. Roughly halfway up, there was a young girl on her knees, brushing the dirt off the stones. She was about ten, and very clearly a slave, and she looked up at Andromache, the Theban princess very nearly cried out: the little salve girl, abused and undernourished, looked very similar to little Nerissa.

Shaken to the core, Andromache didn't fight in the least as she was taken to the women's chambers and pushed into a room. It was plain, with high-set windows and simplistic furnishings; there was absolutely nothing extravagant about it.

At that moment, Andromache couldn't find it in her to care. She was upset, shaken, angry, and tired, and wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep forever. Better yet, go to sleep, wake up, and realize that the whole affair was one very long nightmare.

_But if had been a nightmare, or even a dream, would you have met Hector? _a hauntingly beautiful voice whispered in the back of her mind. It was an odd voice, a female one that she had never heard before, and it was as frightening as it was beautiful. Andromache pushed the thought away and, after taking off her sandals, crawled onto the neat, tidy little bed and fell dead asleep.

o0o

When she awoke, it was dark out; Andromache suspected that it was very early morning. She rolled over, hoping for sleep to return, but when it did not come, she sighed and sat up.

The room was very plain; simplistic. It was almost quaint, in some ways, with its sparse furnishings and white cotton sheets. The wood of the furniture was plain, and rather rough, and the bowl and pitcher, both made of clay, looked as if they had each seen better days. The whole thing was neat, and while it may not have been extravagant, the attention to detail placement-wise was something very few people could appreciate. Andromache, being very particular about everything she owned having its own place and order, was one of those who could value it.

She stood, feeling oddly calm, and went over to the armoire, opening it to find several different dresses, all made of the same gauzy cotton material. Leaving the dresser open, she removed her black clothing gave herself a quick sponge bath before slipping into a royal blue dress and pinning the matching cotton veil to her hair. That completed, closed the armoire doors and folded her black dress, then placed it gently on the bed, which she had already made.

Andromache padded silently to the entrance, not bothering with her sandals, and tugged open the heavy door. A guard standing on the other side instantly straightened to peer at her cautiously. "I only wish to pray," she said quietly.

Oddly, the guard smiled at her. "Remain out of sight and stay quiet. Should the others discover you, we will both find ourselves in trouble."

She frowned at him, confused, but he gestured her on. "The temples are within the palace, which is convenient for us both. That way."

"Thank you," she replied, heading in the direction he had indicated and more confused than ever.

She put the encounter from her mind and wandered the breezy corridor vacantly, feeling oddly detached from everything surrounding her. She found the temples easily: the entrances were in one large, rectangular chamber, and each doorway led to a small shrine dedicated to each of the twelve ruling gods and goddesses; hardly appropriate, but the gods would have their vengeance one way or another.

Andromache found the temple dedicated to Athena and entered silently. There were no priestess, which was odd, but she wasn't about to complain; she wanted her privacy. Andromache went directly to where the statue of the goddess stood and stared serenely up at it.

Some part of her questioned the gods' sanity at times - after all, what sane being, god or no, would so torment the beings they guided? To Andromache, the relationship was very much like a parent-child relationship, and so the gods' cruelty perplexed her to no end.

There was a loud shout from the outer chamber, and she turned to see figures running - no, sprinting - past the entrance. She bit her lip and slowly made her way back toward the entrance, keeping to the shadows as they ran and shouted to each other. They all were men, and all wore armor; an attack, perhaps? She didn't know, and didn't care to fine out.

Andromache reached out and unhooked the hanging of thin burgundy cotton that covered the doorway to the temple. As soon as it appeared to be safe to move the curtain without the risk of drawing attention to herself, she lowered the hanging, then turned in the now-dimmed light and returned to where the altar stood, kneeling before it and staring up at the statue.

It was not long before the sounds of battle were heard in the distance, but she ignored them - only the guard, who had seemed kind, knew she was at the temple, and she couldn't not bring herself to care over any immediate danger.

_I realize I am not the most faithful of subject,_ she said inwardly to the goddess with the hopes that Athena would hear her mental prayer. _And I realize that I often question your ways, and the ways of your peers. But now I say that my faith will not be shaken should you deliver me from my plight. I know that only the faithless make such promises in order for prayers to be granted, but we both know that I have always attempted to never do such a thing. I ask you now to save me from my fate that I myself have crafted: only Athena, goddess of wisdom and justice, as well as war, has the ability to pull me from the depths without creating more havoc._

There were battle sounds from the outer chamber, and Andromache let her eyes slide closed, refusing to turn, let alone to run. _Come to my aid, as you came to my ancestor's. As Ophelia needed you, so I need you-_

The sound of an armored body hitting the stone floor caused her to whip around with a frightened gasp, her hands flying out to steady herself. Two men in armor she had never seen before were at the entrance, and one of them was dragging an unconscious man away. They certainly were not Theban, but then, she had not seen the armor of any cities other than Thebe, Mytilene, and now Antandrus, which was a variant of Mytilian armor.

A tinge of fear ignited, and Andromache slid herself away slightly, putting more space between herself and the two men. One of them held out a hand, as if to stop her.

"Princess!"

The affect was instantaneous: Andromache jumped to her feet, crying, "_No_!" as the two armored men jerked the friendly guard from earlier into the temple, holding a knife to his throat.

"Tell us why we shouldn't kill you right here, in this temple," one of the men hissed, causing Andromache to nearly faint.

"_Cohn_?"

The man jerked around to face her as the other looked up at her. The first removed his helmet and grinned at her rather sheepishly. "I'd forgotten you wouldn't recognize this," he said, gesturing to his strange armor.

Andromache didn't know what to think as the other man awkwardly removed his helmet, revealing himself to be Erastus. She had to sit, and her rump hit the stone hard. "Let him go," she said weakly.

"What?"

"He means no harm. In fact," she swallowed, attempting to regain her equilibrium, and turned to the guard, who had been released and was rubbing his throat, glaring at her brothers. "You may join us. You have no love for these people, and you were kind to me when I needed it most. We will protect you in Thebe."

The man bowed to her elegantly. "Mytilene is currently under the rule of cowards. Soon, however, it will not be. I would like to be there to watch the change. But know that Thebe will be one of the first cities to receive our allegiance was the change it made."

She nodded. "Very well. You're free to go. Just be sure that no one else finds you."

"I would not waste the gift of mercy you, my lady, have bestowed upon me," he said, and with that he was gone. Andromache stood slowly, her attention back on her brothers.

"If I wake up now, and discover you aren't real, I will throw myself from the battlements," she said solemnly, and they both laughed. Erastus came over and hugged her tightly, and Andromache felt tears prickle her eyes.

"I should hope we're real!" Erastus said, releasing his hold and stepping away as Cohn tugged her into a hug.

"Yes, it was be daunting to be found imaginary," Cohn agreed.

"But," she stammered, her mind struggling to catch up. "That isn't Theban armor."

"No," Erastus agreed. "It was your betrothed's idea."

"What?"

"She needs the full explanation from him, I think," Cohn said to his older brother, who nodded.

"Indeed."

"I still don't understa-"

"Come, dearest sister," Erastus interrupted, taking her elbow and leading her out of the temple. "You will understand all in hardly a moment."

"How did you know where to find me?" she demanded as her brothers escorted her to… wherever their destination might have been. "How did you get here? And why are you wearing strange armor?"

"We told you," Cohn said patiently. "It was your betrothed's idea. He felt that his country had less risk in performing a rescue. The only way we were allowed to come was if we wore his country's armor."

"There are two problems in this story you have fed me," she said stubbornly. She counted them off on her fingers. "First, my betrothed would never have arranged a rescue for me, and second, that isn't Mytilian armor."

Erastus sighed. "No, dearest. Not Corydon." They were at the top of the grand steps on the outside of the palace, looking to the west, with the sun behind them. Erastus pointed down to the base of the steps were a worn figure stood, speaking to a man she didn't recognize. "Your betrothed."

The exhausted figured turned to look up at them, as he knew he was being spoken of, and it was then that Andromache nearly fainted. Hector smiled up at her, a tired sort of smile, as she numbly began her decent.

"But…" She was having difficulty forming all her questions into actual words. "_How_?" she finally managed to get out.

"Not long after you left," he told her, "I realized that you were being very selfish."

"But I don't-"

He held up a hand to stop her and continued. "You were perfectly willing to give everything up for everyone else. Perfectly willing to take the fall for us all. But you would let no one take the fall for _you_. Well," he stepped up to meet her, smiling gently at her and brushing her curls gently away from her face, "I have decided, Princess, that I am not going to allow you to be selfish. You give everything up for others, and now I will give it up for you. And, before you say anything, there is absolutely nothing you can say to stop me, and I have not broken my promise."

Andromache was still feeling incredibly thick, and could only blink up at him. "Promise?"

"You made me promise not to challenge the Mytilian rat." Hector shrugged simply. "I haven't. I'm simply stealing his bride away."

There was absolutely nothing to say to that, which was just as well, since Andromache couldn't find anything to say anyway. Instead she grinned up at him like a fool and wrapped her arms about his neck, then pressed her lips to his without a care in the world as to who saw.


	13. Death of the Prince

**A/N: Well, my headaches are gone! It took a week to get rid of them, but it turns out that it started as a migraine, and then developed into a tension headache. Therefore, all of the migraine therapy did absolutely nothing for my head, and even made it worse at times. But we got some medicine for tension headaches and such, and we're all better.**

**On another note, I don't think I like the way this chapter came out. I really don't. It's too… jerky, if you will. It doesn't flow quite right, like the others did. Ah, well. Hopefully the next one will be better. Let me know what you think, and if something isn't quite right, let me know what it is so that I can try to fix it later.**

**_Chapter Thirteen  
Death of the Prince  
_**o0o

When the noise finally managed to penetrate her clouded brain, Andromache realized that the sound she heard was the men cheering. At this realization, she broke away and hid her face in Hector's chest, armor or no, in a desperate attempt to hide her flaming cheeks. Several of them found this amusing, and she sighed heavily, the noise muffled by the bronze-plated leather that covered her companion's chest.

"They aren't mocking you, I assure you," Hector told her quietly.

"In my position, it's all the same," she muttered, and he laughed.

He pulled away, his face suddenly serious. "Would you rather ride with your brothers?"

Andromache opened her mouth to say that she had no preference, she was overjoyed to see them all, but Erastus came forward, mounted and grinning down at them. "She will ride with you, Prince of Troy. I trust this will not inconvenience anyone?"

Andromache glared up at him as Hector nodded deeply. "Not in the least," he replied.

"I can speak for myself," Andromache informed him.

"Yes, but to watch your reaction when I speak for you is amusing," he teased, and Andromache glared at him more as she followed Hector to where Eros stood.

Hector turned to her, and Andromache realized with a dull horror that they expected her to actually ride. She cast an apprehensive glance to the large beast, then looked at Hector with a skeptical expression. "Are you trying to kill me?"

He barely smothered a laugh, raising a hand to cover his mouth, though Andromache saw the smile anyway. She level a glare at him, as well, as he smoothed his amused expression and said, "Hardly. We haven't much time, and so we must travel by the fastest means available."

Andromache sighed, eyeing the horse anxiously. "Very well," she said, resigned. Hector gripped her waist and in one smooth, fluid movement, had her seated upon the horse, both of her legs draped over the animal's shoulder. He mounted behind her effortlessly, and she realized that he was much stronger - and more graceful - than she had realized.

Hector wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her to him firmly. "I doubt this will be comfortable," he warned.

"Do you truly think that my journey here was?" she asked, raising her brows skeptically.

He didn't reply, simply brushed his lips against her brow then called the men into formation. Erastus came up to ride beside them, Demos and Cohn rode behind them, and the soldiers filed behind them, riding in two straight columns. Hector tightened his grip on her and said, "Hold on. Tightly."

Andromache did as he said, but all the same was hardly prepared for the jolt that nearly sent her flying. She wrapped on arm around his waist and clung tightly, though Hector seemed to have no troubles in holding on to her.

The ride was a swift one; to all appearances, speed was of the essence, and they were nearly to Thebe by mid afternoon. The small convoy made a short stop not long after midday, and quickly resumed, the at a much more leisurely pace.

Seated upon the horse, with both legs draped over the horses shoulder and Hector holding her securely to him, Andromache thought back over the day's events, reviewing it all with a rather distant mind, as if she had been a spectator rather than a participant. She delicately fingered the bruise Corydon had left around her wrist, her head resting on Hector's shoulder. "Perhaps," she said after a moment, "you could explain to me how all of this came to pass."

She felt, rather than heard, Hector's light chuckle as he shifted his grip to hold the reins with his right hand, keeping his left firmly anchored around her waist. "Not long after you left, I went to your father and informed him that, should you allow it, I would have you as my wife. I specified that you had to allow it, and I offered all the protection of Troy's armies in return, should you give your consent. No dowry was necessary - in truth, I couldn't stand the thought of paying for you. Your father told me that he would like nothing more than to agree, but that you had already left for Mytilene. I immediately offered to rescue you, and after being assured that Thebe would be protected from blame as best as I could manage, he agreed. Your brothers," he laughed quietly, and Andromache couldn't suppress the responding smile. "They all insisted on coming, but we could only allow a few of them, and they had to wear Trojan armor, in order to prevent Thebe from suspicion. Does that answer your questions?"

"For the most part," she answered. "Is my father demanding a bride price?"

"He told me that he would require one only if you wish it. I will pay any price that is demanded."

"Nonsense," she murmured. "We will demand no such thing, particularly when you refuse dowry."

He shifted his grip again, and with his now-free right hand picked up her bruised wrist. "He hurt you?"

"I brought it upon myself," she said quietly. Hector's sigh was tense, and Andromache knew that he felt quite differently about her bruise. "It holds no importance anymore," she told him in the same quiet voice, freeing her wrist from his grasp and placing the reins in his right hand, covering his hands with her own smaller ones.

"What happens next?" she asked him, lifting her head and leaning back slightly so that she could look at him properly. His eyes continuously scanned the area surrounding them, and she knew that he was watching for potential threats. She bit back a sigh.

"Would you come to Troy?"

"Do you truly have to ask?"

He smiled slightly, but kept his eyes on their surroundings. "I thought I would be polite." Then he sighed. "What we do next depends entirely on Corydon and oldest brother, who has recently become king after the assassination of his elderly father. Their father was belligerent, but for all his warmongering, those two sons of his are worse. I suspect they will march into Thebe seeing red and demanding blood."

Andromache paled considerably, and her hand tightened over his. "Thebe cannot-"

"I will be there to correct the aim of their anger," he informed her gently. "Thebe will have no connection to your abduction."

She was silent for a moment, contemplating this. "You would bring war to Troy for me?" she asked quietly, her tone carefully masked of emotion. _No woman is worth a war, _she thought. _Myself least of all. _"I want you to consider before answering. You are heir to the throne of a great nation. I am the youngest child of a militarily weak nation, and nearly unable to bear children. Bearing you an heir would be difficult and lengthy at best, and I am not physically strong. A lack of an heir would frighten the people, you know this as well as I. Am I what Troy needs? Am I worth the war that will develop?"

"Troy is stronger than you think, love," he said, tightening his grip on her waist. "Your father said the same thing, though I believe it pained him more to utter the words. However, I believe that you are exactly what Troy needs."

She snorted, a completely unladylike sound that would have earned her a reprimand from a nursemaid when she was younger. "Somehow I find it difficult to believe you," she said wryly.

"You do now, but I believe in Troy you will see that I am correct."

"As you say," she said with a slight shrug, resting her head on his shoulder once more. "My brothers have been behaving very well, I'll have you know," she said after a moment's silence. "They have yet to make an attempt at gutting you."

"I have been wondering if I needed to take further precautions," he murmured teasingly.

"I believe they are simply relieved that I won't be spending my life in Mytilene," she said.

"Possibly," he murmured. "Look."

Andromache turned, lifting her head from his shoulder and peering in the direction he indicated. There, not an hour's ride away, stood Thebe, and Andromache let out a sigh of relief.

o0o

They had been received with cheers and adulations abound, and her family had been nearly in tears, despite their broad smiles. Just when she was beginning to feel that her cheeks would break from so much smiling, Andromache had found time to herself, reacquainting herself with the home she thought she would never see again.

It had only been two days, but she still felt as if she had been gone ages. As she sat out in the gardens that evening, silently surveying her sanctuary, she wondered if she truly would have survived in Mytilene. Physically, perhaps, but emotionally? Knowing that she could have, at least, developed a slight friendship with her husband would have made everything easier to bear. But knowing that her husband loathed her… No, she would not have survived in Mytilene.

"We will be leaving for Troy soon," a voice said behind her, and she turned as Hector walked toward her. "Everything now depends on timing."

"Is our situation truly so precarious?" she asked, turning back to watch the gardens once more.

"It may be. There are certain risks I am simply unwilling to take right now."

"Risks," Andromache repeated. She sighed. "Why is it that we humans must wallow in our own folly? We cross and vex and irritate each other to no end, and then sit and wish for nothing but peace."

"The Mytilians want power," he said, standing behind her and slipping his hands onto her shoulders. "You know this as well as I. Peace is an inconvenience to them."

"I don't want to cause a war," she said quietly. "In fact, it was what I attempted to avoid."

"You have cause nothing," he said firmly. "The tension between Troy and Mytilene has never been insignificant; this is simply the breaking point reached now rather than tomorrow."

Andromache sighed and stood, turning to him with the ghost of a smile. "We leave tomorrow?"

"I hope to."

"You don't think we will?"

Hector surveyed her face for a moment, simply watching her. Then he forced a small smile for her and said, "You need your rest. I suggest you take it."

Andromache frowned, disliking the avoidance of her question; were things really so set against them? She gripped his hand, hoping to be reassuring, then left.

In her chambers, she changed and brushed her hair out, letting Metis go about her own tasks. Andromache frowned when a thud on her door announced that someone wanted to see her.

She stood, setting the expensive ivory comb down on the vanity table and went over to the door, tugging the heavy wood open. Erastus stood there, looking anxious, and Andromache pulled the door open wider. "Come in. Did you want anything?"

"No," he said, stepping into her rooms. He held something that looked suspiciously like a dagger in his hand; Andromache did her best not to consider why he had it.

"Is there something I can do for you?" she asked, frowning in concern.

"Yes, actually." He held out his hand, offering the thing to her, and she saw that it was, indeed, a dagger. A well made one, too, with elegant designs carved into the bronze of the hilt. "You can take this."

Andromache took a step away, holding up her hands as if to ward it off. "I don't want it."

"Andromache, please." Erastus was truly concerned, pleading with his eyes for her to take the weapon. "For my sake. Keep it with you, under your clothes, at all times. Please."

She shook her head, staring at the weapon with wide eyes. "I don't want it," she repeated.

"I want you to have it for your safety. Andromache, just-" He broke off and looked away, and she saw that he wasn't simply concerned: he was frightened for her. "Take it," he pleaded, looking back to her. "Please."

He really was frightened; she could see it in his eyes. Andromache lowered her hands with a sigh. "Will it reassure you?"

"Yes."

Andromache stared at the blade apprehensively, then reached out to take it. Erastus sighed with relief. "Keep it attached to your calf, under your clothing," he told her as she took the blade. "It will serve you well, should you need it." Then he added with a small smile, "If it helps, that is the same blade Queen Ophelia held when she defended her family against the first assassin sent to kill them."

Andromache forced a smile for him. "I will wear it. For you."

He hugged her tightly. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Think nothing of it," she said, hugging him in return, then pulling away and shoving him gently toward the door. "Go spend time with your family."

Erastus grinned at her and kissed her brow, then left. When he was gone, Andromache looked down at the bronze dagger he had given her. _I pray I will never have use of this, _she thought mournfully.

o0o

The Mytilian envoy arrived before dawn, and so the Trojans and Andromache were forced to forestall their departure. Dressed in silk robes dyed a deep green, a dye for which Thebe was well known, and gold jewelry, including a wreath-like circlet made of entwined gold and silver, Andromache sat under the bright mid morning sun, watching as the Mytilians assembled before her.

They were at the square that the festivities had been held in during the first night of the festival. Her brothers stood on the tier above her, just as they had during the festival, their wives seated before them, and her parents sat on the highest tier. Andromache struggled to maintain an impassive outer visage, determined to face whatever she was given with dignity. Corydon was there, and through the anger, she could see that he was also humiliated. This was no surprise: anyone would have been humiliated to find his bride stolen right from under his nose.

It was not Corydon's enraged expression that frightened her, however: Damen, newly crowned King of Mytilene, oldest brother of Corydon, held a look that promised blood and tears; the most horrifying part of it was that he seemed to enjoy the thought.

She drew in a shaking breath as she watched the wind play with the clothing of those surrounded her. The hand on her shoulder tightened, and she closed her eyes briefly. Hector's position at her side, with his arm around her shoulders and his hand resting on her right shoulder, was a very possessive one, and it sent a message that the Mytilians could not have missed. It reassured her even as it caused her more fear, given that it made it clear that Hector had "abducted" her. There was absolutely nothing she could do to protect them anymore, and it left Andromache feeling helpless, a feeling she did not welcome.

"Eetion!" Damen snapped, standing in the middle of the square and looking furiously up at her father. "I demand an explanation as to why my brother's wife is sitting there!" His finger jabbed towards Andromache, who flinched almost imperceptibly._ Is this what I have brought us to?_

Hector's grip on her shoulder tightened reassuringly as he replied, "The princess is not your brother's wife, and never was. King Eetion had nothing to do with this."

Damen, an attractive man made unattractive by his perpetual look of scorn, scoffed. "You expect me to believe that the mighty Hector has lowered himself to abduction?"

"Believe what you will, but know that the Thebans had nothing to do with this."

"Then perhaps it is _you _I should kill!" Corydon snarled, and Damen held out his hand to stop his brother as Andromache flinched once more.

"This is not between Mytilene and Thebe," Hector said firmly, and Andromache began to believe why men would follow him even under the threat of death. "This is between Prince Corydon and myself. Let us settle it between us, and let that be the end of things."

Damen looked as if he was going to refuse, but Corydon grabbed his brother's shoulder and muttered something to him. Andromache's hand flew up to cover Hector's, and he sighed. "I knew it would come to this," he said, almost to himself, and Andromache lifted her chin slightly, forcing herself to maintain a calm aura. _Please, let no one I love be harmed in this._

Damen sighed and looked back up at Hector. "Very well, Prince of Troy. Settle this."

Hector squeezed her shoulder, then slid his hand away reluctantly as he began his decent. Andromache moved perceptibly for the first time, turning her head to look at him as he walked down the steps to the square. Her hands, folded in her lap, clenched around each other painfully, her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palm viciously.

Hector went to take his sword from Paris, who stood to the side with the rest of the Trojan envoy; the Theban court stood directly across from them, on the other side. Corydon drew his blade, and a strange sort of panic filled her. Andromache jumped to her feet.

"Wait!" she cried, and everyone in attendance stared at her. "Wait, please…" She started down the steps, half stumbling on the first step, even as Erastus hissed, "Andromache, what are you _doing_?"

"If I return-" She couldn't seem to get her mouth to work properly! Her hands were shaking violently, and it seemed as though her insides had turned to snakes. The fear that clutched at her was an odd sort of fear, a near terror, and she couldn't quite tell what was causing it. "If I return with you, without argument, will you swear not to hurt him?"

"What?" Damen demanded, starting at her in disbelief.

"Andromache-"

"Please, I'll return with you," she said to Corydon. "I- I'll go, but don't- Please, don't-"

"'Don't' what, Princess?" he asked, his voice low and deadly. "'Please, don't,' what? Kill him?" He laughed quietly, a wholly humorless sound, and Andromache took a small step away from him, paling. "Oh, believe me, Princess, I will kill him. But not before-" his hand shot out, grabbing her throat tightly, and she gasped, her hands flying to his wrists, "I kill you."

"Corydon!" Damen snapped as several of her brothers jumped to their feet.

His grip on her neck tightened, and he jerked her for emphasis as he snarled, "Any closer, and you'll all wish she was dead!"

Andromache struggled against the much stronger man, grasping at his wrist even as he drew her closer to him - to gain a better grip, she guessed. She let go of his wrist with one hand as her lungs began to scream from lack of air, and brought her calf up and grasped at it desperately with her free hand. After what seemed like hours, and as her blood began to roar in her ears fiercely, she found the dagger Erastus had given her and brought it up, clenched in her now-weak fist.

Corydon released her neck, and Andromache nearly collapsed as a rush of fresh air filled her lungs. His hand closed over her wrist, twisting the knife toward her rather than himself, and she gasped with pain as he twisted her limb brutally. Andromache jerked back, and though his grip on her didn't ease by even the smallest amount, her wrist was able to twist back to its normal position, with the blade facing Corydon. Something happened then, something that none of them would ever have foreseen: though the floor was smooth and clean, Corydon stumbled, and fell into her, landing not only on herself, but on the blade.

With a gasp of pure horror, Andromache stumbled back as Corydon fell into her, staring at her with a shocked expression. He clawed at her shoulder in a struggle to stay upright, leaving a trail of blood on her clothing as he fell to the floor, dead.

The silence was absolute as Andromache stumbled back, horrified and terrified all at once. She looked down at her hands, which were shaking violently, covered in blood. Her clothing was very similar, the red turning to black against the dark, Theban green of her silks. _What have I done?_

"She killed him. The bitch killed him!"

Andromache jerked her head up, her mind still stunned with the horror of it all; she had forgotten about Damen. "I'll kill her for this, Eetion, mark my words! And after she's dead, I'll come after Thebe."

_I am to be killed before Thebe, _she thought vaguely, not hearing her father's response. _Well, if he cannot find me, he cannot kill me. Therefore, he cannot hurt my people._

She looked over at Damen and said in an oddly high-pitched voice, "You may kill me. But if I am to die before my country, then you'll have to find me in order to extricate punishment." And then, she did exactly what her instincts had been telling her to do all along: she ran.

It was as if she could escape everything if she ran fast enough, and she ran as if she truly could. Andromache simply ran as hard and as fast as she could, her mind empty of all thoughts save the one that told her that, if she disappeared, she could save Thebe. By the time her stunned emotions had caught up with her, she was on a rise outside the city. She slowed to a halt, then fell to her knees, sobbing shamelessly.

She ignored the sounds of hoof beats, refusing to acknowledge them, though her tears did slow. Andromache looked up to watch the countryside as her pursuer slowed and dismounted even before stopping.

"I killed him," she said softly as they came up and knelt beside her. Realizing that it was Hector, she looked at him hopelessly.

"It's all right," he murmured vaguely.

"No, it isn't." She thrust her hands at him, palms up, showing him the blood that was smeared across her hand. "I killed him!"

Hector grabbed her face in both his hands, forcing her to look at him. "He fell," he said firmly, leaving no room for argument. "You were defending yourself against an unwarranted attack, and he fell." He kept his gaze locked on hers until she nodded slightly, yielding to the idea.

Once she made that small movement, he sighed and used the corner of his cloak, which was attached to the shoulders of his armor, to wipe her hands clean. Andromache looked down at her deep green silk and, seeing the blood stains covering it, wavered - the stains seemed almost symbolic, a sign that Theban blood would be spilt.

She closed her eyes and released a shuddering breath, fighting against the idea as Hector settled his cloak about her and gathered her into his arms, carrying her to the horse and placing her up there before mounting behind her.

They Mytilian dispatchers rode past them as they made their way back to the palace, rushing along at a furious pace. As she watched the rest of the Mytilian convoy leave the city, Andromache decided that she had not felt so small and helpless for many years.

Hector seemed to think that the blood that she had spilt had been a fluke, an accident. And perhaps it had been. Or, perhaps the gods themselves had caused Corydon to stumble into her blade. She certainly had not moved it toward him - she had not possessed the strength. But no matter what light you observed the situation in, a war had still been started, and the festival square of Thebe was no longer free of the taint of death.

Her family was waiting for her when they returned. Their grim expression spoke volumes, and Andromache simply hid her face, staring at the ground and doing her best to keep her gaze from the gore on her clothing - suddenly, the very smell made her stomach turn; she was afraid that if she were to look at it, she would truly become ill.

"I think it best if we leave for Troy as soon as possible," Hector said quietly, one arm around her shoulders protectively.

"I agree," Eetion said. He stepped forward, and Andromache felt his hand slip beneath her chin. "Dearest," he began, but when he saw the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, he sighed mournfully. "So much for you to bear," he murmured, then kissed her forehead. "None of this was your doing. It was inevitable, dearest. You simply delayed it for a while."

She didn't reply, merely allowed herself to be tugged along by her mother and Megara, toward her chambers.


	14. Royal Welcome

**A/N: Okay, I didn't like the last chapter - since I wrote it, I'm a bit more critical than you kind people - so here we are! Perhaps, looking at it from another perspective, I should wait for more reviews to come in, but I can't bring myself to do it.**

**Ah, well. At least Corydon's dead! I didn't like him, and I created him…**

**_Chapter Fourteen  
Royal Welcome  
_**o0o

Andromache sat in a daze for the rest of the day, habitually scrubbing her hands against the white cotton even after she had washed them completely clean of blood. Her family had remained with her, but they were all silent.

Her mood worried Erastus, but he knew better than to question it. A mad had died at her hands, accident or no, and he knew that she would terrorize herself with the knowledge for some time. This was not, however, his greatest concern at the moment: his sister's safety was beginning to take predominance over her health.

With this in mind, Erastus called a meeting with his siblings, Andromache excluded, and Prince Hector, and had not stepped delicately around the subject by any means.

"When you leave tomorrow, Prince Hector," he had said firmly, staring the slightly younger man down, "I expect you to ride hard and fast for Troy, and prepare your army swiftly. We both know that Mytilene is on the move as we speak."

Hector, it seemed, was as wise as the stories said, for he seemed to grasp Erastus' true concern instantly. "Your sister's well being and safety are my foremost concerns, I assure you. Nothing will befall her so long as I draw breath."

"A lovely promise, to be sure," Alexander said wearily. "I expect nothing less than what you have spoken here."

"To receive anything less would be a slight the Princess does not deserve," Hector replied evenly.

Erastus surveyed him carefully, watching the Trojan's face. _He loves her, _the Theban prince realized, and he almost laughed. He had never dared to hope for such a man for his sister, and now, there he sat, willing to bring war to his country for sake of Andromache. The commander of Thebe's armies grinned suddenly, reaching out a hand to the Trojan prince.

"If there is anyone I can trust to take care of her any better than I myself would, it's you, Hector of Troy," he said, very near to laughing. He clasped the Trojan's forearm heartily. "Look after her for us, and remember that she grew up with an unusual amount of freedom. She doesn't always know when she has crossed a line."

"A quality that drew me to her from the beginning," Hector assured him, and Erastus thought that he might burst for happiness.

_My sister will be happy, and I won't have to kill her husband!_

o0o

They left before dawn the next morning, with partings that were much happier than the first, for they all knew that Andromache would be happy in Troy, and within five days the convoy had reached the outskirts of Trojan territory. Over the course of those five days, Andromache had come to terms, in a way, with what had happened to Corydon. Her nightmares of the event had lessened, and the haunting idea that the blood on her green clothing had been a symbolic omen of Thebe's doom began to fade.

The morning of their arrival had been greeted warmly by the men, but Andromache herself could not stay the apprehension that clutched at her. After all, she was the youngest child of a weak nation's king, and nearly unable to bear children. Troy was a great nation, full of great people, and need a princess to aptly express that. In her own opinion, Andromache was a far cry from the great princess Troy needed.

The excitement would be difficult for anyone to miss, and despite her misgivings, she couldn't help but share ever-so-slightly in that excitement. After their midday stop, extra care had been taken to appearance, and Andromache had been placed on a horse her on her own, to ride beside Hector rather than with him. When she had expressed her suspicions that she would fall flat on her face before the whole of Troy, her betrothed had simply told her, "If you do, it will be nothing more than what I have done before the whole of Troy. They are a very forgiving people, love."

Andromache did not point out that the people of Troy knew and loved Hector from, essentially, the day of his birth, and would forgive him anything, whereas they did not even expect Andromache to appear. Rather, they still expected the Princess of Lampsacus to arrive at their gates.

Paris, on the other hand, had been slightly more aware of the fact that Hector was incomparable in the eyes of his people. "It's a sign of humility," the younger prince said, coming up beside her upon a horse of his own. "He doesn't know just how much they idolize him. Should you or I fall…" Paris sighed and shook his head comically. "May the gods have mercy on us."

Andromache giggled, but her nerves were in no way depleted. She would have liked to speak with her soon-to-be younger brother for a bit longer, in a desperate effort to calm herself (for he seemed to be adept at that), but at that moment the last of the men assembled, and Hector took his place beside her. Paris gave her a cheeky grin and navigated his horse so that he would head the procession.

It was hardly any time at all before they were at the gates, which were being opened as they approached. Andromache could hear the cheering and, as the gates were opened, she saw the falling petals and the dancing. She swallowed, suddenly very fearful of being paraded before these proud people, feeling like a dense country idiot next to their refinement. Thebe might have been economically strong, but there was no way her country could compete with Troy.

"If it helps," Hector murmured as they neared the gates, "I have always hated this part the most."

She threw him a quick smile, but somehow she felt that it didn't quite create the desired affect. Anything that she might have said in response, however, was very quickly lost as they entered the gates and the cheering nearly doubled in volume. Andromache looked up at the gates, feeling very small in comparison, but quickly returned her gaze to the people as they proceeded, out of fear that she would fall off her horse due to staring at the gates.

The streets were lined with armed soldiers and towns people alike, though it was only the civilian citizens that clapped and cheered. Petals fell from the rooftops, on which stood even more people, who joyfully flung the delicate flowers out onto their returning princes, courtiers, and soldiers. The younger children ran along with the convoy, carefully avoiding the hooves of the animals as they jumped and ran, celebrating their princes' return.

Andromache felt rather overwhelmed by it all, and when some of the young women began waving at her, she didn't know what to think, let alone what to do. So she simply smiled and nodded to them, occasionally giving a small wave in return, particularly to the younger children. The older women, however, were not quite so warm in their welcome: many pointed blatantly, disapproving looks on their faces: her green silks gave her away as a Theban, and they were not expecting a Theban. Perhaps they though Thebe below them?

The thought was a vexing one, but Andromache refused to show it. Rather, she simply smiled up at them kindly, praying to come across as the princess her people had known her as, rather than the aloof princess that many of these people would expect.

Her nerves were no better when they arrived at the palace, which was also lined with clapping people, though these were more sedate in their welcome, leading Andromache to believe that they were courtiers and the like. Hector and Paris dismounted very nearly in unison, and immediately Hector came to help Andromache from her seat upon the horse. When her feet touched the ground, he leaned closer to her slightly and murmured, "It only becomes easier from here on." She gave him a smile, but she knew better: meeting King Priam, and his wife, Queen Hecuba, would be, quite possibly, the most difficult thing about this day.

Hector, however, expected them to welcome her implicitly, despite the fact that she was bringing war to their country. Perhaps he was right, but somehow she could not bring herself to truly believe it. They ascended the steps to the palace in the same procession that they had been in when they entered the city, and the polite patter of clapping courtiers accompanied them.

Priam smiled warmly at his sons as they approached, embracing Paris and kissing each cheek. Her heart was in her throat as the king greeted his oldest son next, who then reached back and took her hand, gently pulling her forward.

"Father," he said, as Andromache took his place before Priam, "this is Andromache."

There was a slight hint of confusion in the king's eyes as he glanced to his son. "Andromache of Thebe?"

She looked down, anxious and more than a little afraid, and swallowed slightly, attempting to slow her pulse, make her breathing less difficult, and return her heart to its normal place in her chest all at once.

"Well, my dear," Priam said, and she looked up at him as he took each of her hands in greeting, "I must say that none of the rumors are true: you are much more beautiful than your brothers."

That surprised a small laugh from her, and Priam smiled and kissed each of her cheeks. "Welcome to Troy, Princess Andromache." He surveyed her for a moment, then said, "Come. There are more introductions to be made, and you must be exhausted."

She looked back at Hector as Priam turned, taking her with him by holding on to one of her hands. Her betrothed simply smiled and nodded, gesturing for her to follow his father, and she did so, albeit rather nervously.

There were many more people waiting inside, and standing foremost was a regal woman who looked terribly forbidding to Andromache, particularly in her anxious state. The woman was beautiful, naturally, and held herself in a very noble manner, but the way she seemed to glare at the world was rather intimidating to the Theban princess.

"Dearest wife," Priam said, bringing Andromache forward, "this is Princess Andromache of Thebe."

Rather than the warm welcome she had received from Priam, the woman who was the Queen of Troy simply arched one proud brow. "I had been led to believe that we would be greeting Cloris of Lampsacus."

Andromache looked at the stone floor, feeling very small, but Priam simply patted her hand gently as Hector came up on her other side. "Lampsacus ended the marriage agreement, and it was of no consequence," Hector informed his mother lightly, but Andromache was no fool: she saw the protective look in his expression.

"And we," Priam added, "are happy to welcome Andromache as our daughter."

Queen Hecuba smirked slightly, giving Andromache the slight feeling that she was not at all welcome by the Queen of Troy. She gave the woman a tentative smile, preparing for the worst, but Hector took her hand. "Come," he said quietly. "There are others you must meet."

Andromache nodded deeply to the queen, and to Priam, as Hector gently towed her away. "I had forgotten how my mother can be," he said apologetically in her ear as he led her across the room.

She forced a smile for him, hoping to assure him that she was not at all worried, when in fact she was terribly worried. Hecuba would not have been easy to win over even if she had been the planned bride; being the unplanned bride, Andromache would have a difficult time indeed of winning Hecuba's respect.

"Andromache, I would like you to meet my dearest cousin, Briseis."

She looked up to see a young woman, apparently the same age as Paris, beaming at them with such an infectious happiness that Andromache couldn't help the slight upward turn of the corners of her mouth. The girl was a pretty thing, with long, dark brown curls and sparkling brown - almost hazel, a rare shade - eyes. The young woman reached out and grabbed Andromache's hand.

"And I had thought my cousin's heart indomitable!" she said. "Welcome to Troy, and know that I already think of you as a cousin. If you are dear to Hector, then you are worthy indeed."

Andromache smiled, part out of true pleasure and part out of relief, and returned the younger woman's grip. "Whether or not I am worthy will soon be decided, I fear," she said wryly, finding her voice for the first time since setting foot in Troy. "However, if I am a cousin to you, know that you are the same to me. Thank you for making me feel welcome."

"Think nothing of it," Briseis said, dragging Andromache away. "Even if you don't think you are worthy, I say you are. Hector is the best judge of character I know."

With the cheerful and talkative Briseis as her guide, it was difficult for Andromache to hold on to her anxiety for long. No matter how hard she tried, however, she knew that there was no possibility of her remembering all of the names that came her way. In fact, by the time everything had calmed down enough for her departure, her head whirled with unfamiliar names and titles, each one remaining in her memory only briefly.

"I will never remember them all," she confessed to Briseis as the younger woman showed her to where Andromache would be staying until the wedding.

Briseis waved her confession away. "There is no need to, I assure you," she said, tossing a rather mischievous grin over her shoulder. "Call them all 'friend.' If they look to be a sibling of Hector and Paris, call them 'cousin.' Or rather, for you, 'brother' or 'sister.' Or even 'sibling,' I would suppose. That's what I do, and they seem to accept it easily enough."

"A fair plan," Andromache admitted.

"Here we are. This room isn't far from mine, so if you need anything, I'm simply a few rooms away." She pointed and said, "Three doors that way."

"Thank you," Andromache replied, genuinely grateful to her newfound friend. She turned to enter her rooms, but Briseis stopped her.

"You'll be good for him, I know it," the younger girl said. "And he loves you. I can see it. In perfect honesty, I could hardly care less if we were supposed to greet the Princess of Lampsacus rather than you. In fact, I don't think I would have liked her as much as I like you."

The day's events nearly overwhelmed her when Briseis said those words, and Andromache looked to the ceiling, fighting back tears. _I did not cry nearly so much before I met Hector, _she thought, slightly disgruntled, as she turned back to Briseis with a smile. "I don't think you realize just how much those words mean to me at this moment."

"I mean them," Briseis said with an insistent expression. Then she smiled and squeezed Andromache's hand. "You and I shall speak later. For now, however, we must both prepare ourselves for this welcome banquet."

The younger girl turned and left then, and Andromache entered her room sedately. It was moderately sized, though not quite so large as her rooms at her home in Thebe. Andromache didn't mind the decrease in size, and found all of the trunks containing her possessions were already waiting for her.

Andromache opened the trunks contained her clothing, and she bit her lip as she surveyed the contents of each trunk . To wear green, the color derived from a native Theban dye, thus making green a representative of Thebe, could possibly be seen as insulting to her new family. However, she was not yet married to Hector, and thus the Trojans were not yet her family, and so to wear blue, a color that seemed to represent Troy, could be seen as abrupt and presumptuous. Instead, she opted for a violet shade in her choice of clothing. Violet being a very rare, and thus very expensive, color, she chose silver jewelry in order to temper the extravagance of her clothing.

Nothing about her appearance was assuming, nor offending, and she took great pains to make it that way. Metis, who had accompanied her mistress to Troy, artfully pinned her hair in place, for which Andromache was grateful - she had never had the ability to master her hair as Metis did. Her eyes were lined delicately with kohl, and the end result was satisfactory; she was no comparison to Aphrodite, or even to her sisters in Thebe, but she was passable.

She stood at the window for quite a while, waiting to be called to the banquet as she gazed out over the gardens and a small portion of the city. Andromache sighed, thinking of her own home. Thebe was no where near so grand as Troy; Hector's confidence in his country's ability to defeat Mytilene was not ill-founded. But Thebe was still her home, the country she had nearly sold herself into slavery to protect.

Her eyes narrowed, surveying the horizon. The Mytilians were coming for her, she knew. She had killed their prince, and they had been humiliated by the oldest prince of Troy. She shuddered, thinking of the day Corydon had met his end. She had kept the dagger, at her brother's insistence, but had refused to touch it since the incident. In fact, Andromache had difficulty maintaining her composure any time the youngest prince of Mytilene was mentioned. She had killed a man, and even if he had been cruel, she could not banish the guilt.

She turned from the window, as if she could turn from her thoughts at the same time. The nightmares had all but ended, and she was safely contained within the walls of Troy; Hector had become her indomitable protector, shielding her from anything the Mytilians might attempt against her.

This did not, however, nullify the fact that men would die because of her presence in Troy. Fathers, sons, brothers, cousins, uncles, all would meet their doom because one woman, a lowly woman at that, was not in the city she should have been.

Andromache had lost count of the number of times Hector had insisted that she was not the reason Troy and Mytilene would be marching out onto the battle field to meet each other; she was simply a convenient scapegoat. The fragile alliance between Troy and Mytilene had always been in danger of being broken, simply because of the differences between the two countries and their beliefs.

This did not, however, assuage the guilt that she had already laid upon her shoulders.

A thud on her door announced that she had visitors, and Andromache sighed, composing herself and smoothing on a politely impassive look before going to the door and opening it. After finding that it was only Hector, she sigh slightly and let the mask fall away. "I was almost afraid that I would have yet another name to remember," she confessed as she slipped out of her room and into the corridor.

"I myself hardly remember them all, no one expects you to do so, least of all me," he assured her. "I have something to discuss with you."

She nodded and fell in step along side him, watching their surroundings carefully so that she would remember her way back. "Scouts have reported that the Mytilians are already on the march. They will send some by sea, I would assume. They will if they have any knowledge of war, at least. But most will come by land, from the southeast."

Andromache bit her lip and looked down. Hector stopped, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her, and then raising her chin so that her eyes met his. "Their estimated time of arrival is in five days, perhaps even four. My father's council seems to think that the wedding should take place before they arrive, to ensure that Damen cannot claim you as his by right of his brother's death."

She frowned, admittedly confused. "The betrothal was ended when you came for me in Antandrus," she said, shaking her head slightly. "Mytilene holds no claim over me."

"Not officially, love," Hector replied. "It was never officially declared, and therefore compliance from all involved was not acquired. Should another country chose a side in this, they will see that we have committed the wrong, not Mytilene."

Andromache looked away with an aggravated sigh, pursing her lips slightly. "And who thought of that brilliant rule?" she demanded sardonically, looking back to him. "Clearly it was not someone who face a situation such as ours."

"I agree, but there's nothing for it. By all rights, Corydon's brother should be able to march in here and steal you away, just as I did."

"And there would be nothing you, nor Father, could do," she finished grimly. She sighed again, looking down the corridor. After a moment, she turned back to him with a fierce expression. "I won't go back," she said vehemently. "Make the wedding as soon as need be. I refuse to let Mytilene treat me as a stolen trinket." Unable to bring herself to care if they were observed, Andromache leaned her forehead against his shoulder, which was clad in blue-dyed cotton and gently laid her hand over where his heart was, her fingers splayed across his chest. "I am more than willing to renounce the traditional waiting period, and would have been even if we weren't so pressed for time. Though I doubt your mother will enjoy the idea."

Hector have a short, humorless laugh. "My mother," he murmured grimly. "She is not always the most welcoming, particularly towards women. I blame her lack of willing reception on my brother's penchant for bringing home too many women. I hadn't thought to warn you, I apologize."

Andromache laughed slightly, pulling away in order to look at him. "Clearly I do not know Paris as well as I thought. I feel no remorse at it, because this way I am allowed a bias in his favor. He is very much the wayward little brother I never had. As for warning me…" She sighed, delicately straightening his tunic. "Pay it no mind. I must learn to cope with such things on my own. I grew up very sheltered."

"And therefore I should have sheltered you from her," he persisted, but Andromache shook her head, amused.

"I must learn how to handle myself, but I can hardly learn when I am being protected. Not that I don't appreciate it, mind you. I simply feel that it shouldn't be offered in this matter."

"There's no arguing with you," he said wryly. He kissed her brow. "I'll see you tonight."

She nodded in reply. "Of course."

Andromache watched him go, her expression grim. They had a time constraint in their betrothal. Not that she could bring herself to mind - the purpose of a true betrothal was partially to get to know one another, and since she and Hector already knew each other so well, there really was no need for a true betrothal. However, the time constraint meant that the peaceful life she wished for was no closer to her grasp than it was before.

She sighed, thinking of the burden that must have fallen on Hector's shoulders. He had a wedding to participate in, under time constraints, and a city to protect directly after his marriage. She resolved to keep any problems she came across - particularly those involving Hecuba - to herself, so as not to burden him further.


	15. Princess of Troy

A/N: This story is turning out to be much longer than I expected! I don't want to drag things on… Ah, well. There's nothing for it, I guess.

Anywho, the events in this chapter get a little… risqué, if you will, in their implications. I'll tell you right now, everything will stay true to the rating, simply because I find smut a bit gratuitous - it's all over the place, but is it really needed? I don't think it is. That, and I really don't think I could write it very well, and I don't want to ruin something good with a bad telling. So I won't be including any of that. Sorry if anyone's disappointed

Now, my second note: Donna Lynn, you're my new hero, because I was rather hoping someone would mention the plethora of fics containing anti-Andromache feelings coming from Hecuba. Here's my reasoning:

To put it simple, you're right: there _are _many stories in which Hecuba dislikes Andromache, and I very nearly took that disharmony out of the story for that reason. But I left in in there because it simply makes sense: Andromache was never supposed to ever see Troy, let alone marry the heir to the Trojan throne, and Hecuba is the queen of a very solid kingdom, which means that most upsets will disturb her - most upsets more than likely are accompanied by some sort of danger for her family, particularly Hector, since he's the one out there fighting.

Then, of course, there is the rather scandalous fact that Andromache simply may not bear her husband children. This sort of thing was steeped in controversy, particularly since the main role of a royal woman was to produce heirs for her husband. If Andromache had married Paris (shudder!), then the problem would not be so severe, but since she married Hector, heir to the throne, it's only natural for Hecuba to frown at her. True, Priam should, as well, but I didn't want both parents to hate her, particularly when Priam is involved in the story of Troy, as well as the story of Hector and Andromache, for longer than Hecuba is.

Now that I've gone on for about forever and a half, I'll leave you poor people alone now. Thanks for your patience.

Chapter Fifteen  
Princess of Troy  
o0o

Three days later, the wedding took place. It was a joyous affair, and the people welcomed her as Hector's wife, just as he had assured her that they would. Hecuba had not relented in her cold treatment of the Theban princess by the time the wedding had come, and she did not relent when Andromache became a Trojan princess.

Andromache had performed the rituals in a sort of haze, hardly believe how her luck had turned in the whole of things. She had gone from dreading marriage to welcoming it with open arms in less than a week, a rare feat in itself. When she had burned the chariot that she and Hector had arrived at the palace in, she felt absolutely no regrets, save for the loss of the pretty, green-dyed cotton that decorated the chariot.

At the banquet afterward, it seemed that everyone was vying for her attention, when all she wanted to do was hide away from the attention, dragging Hector along with her. She met more of her new husband's comrades, including Tecton and Lysander, both of whom were directly below Hector in the chain of command. Paris, however, had stolen her away not long afterward and flaunted her about, telling anyone who would listen that she was his new sister.

Out of them all, the only people she could count on for sanity were Hector (who was more often than not at the other side of the room, an ironic thing when it was his wedding to her that was being celebrated), Briseis (only barely, however, for the young woman was beyond overjoyed, such was her enthusiasm), and Priam. Perhaps Hecuba could have been counted among them, but the woman's apparent hatred towards Andromache had the newly made Trojan princess wondering whether to count the queen as an ally at all.

Priam welcomed her into his family warmly, insisting that he was now as much of a father to her as he was to his own children. Hecuba, of course, made no such gesture, though Andromache did her best to not think of it. She very quickly lost count of he people who offered their blessings and congratulations, contending for a chance to meet "the bride of Hector."

Andromache had finally managed to extricate herself from the latest group of people wishing to speak with her, and sat down rather heavily, paying very little heed to the delicate, pale blue and white silks that were her wedding garments. Within an instant, however, she found herself surrounded once more. For a panicked moment she had thought that she had more strangers to talk to, but calmed when she realized that it was only Paris and Briseis, with a few other vaguely familiar faces.

"You look overwhelmed, sister," Paris teased, and she gave him a mock glare.

"Perhaps we should thrust you into an unknown environment in which everyone and their _horse _wants to meet and congratulate you," she countered. She gestured to the festivities surrounding them. "Do you truly believe that such extravagance is something I encounter often? I am from _Thebe_, Paris."

"You are the new wife of Troy's great Prince Hector. Naturally, you will be very well received," Briseis pointed out, and the older woman shot her a glare.

"'Well received,' and 'overwhelmed,' are two completely different things, cousin," she said flatly.

"As it is, that festival that took place during my stay was quite extravagant," the younger Prince of Troy pointed out.

"Yes, but I was not so near the center," she replied.

"Andromache, you _are _the center," Briseis countered, rolling her eyes.

"Hardly. Hector is the center of this insanity," Andromache argued. "As it is, being so near the center disturbs me."

"Oh, come now, surely we aren't that frightening?" Paris teased, and she straightened indignantly.

"Stop toying with me," she cried. "For the past three days the only familiar faces I have seen are direct relatives of yours. Everyone else here is a complete stranger to me, and yet they all seem to wish to smother me with greetings!"

They laughed, and Andromache lifted her eyes to the ceiling in exasperation with a heavy sigh. "I surrender," she said, holding up her hands.

Paris looked at her oddly as the others laughed, a strange smirk on his face. She eyed him warily. "I am not so naïve as to think that that look is an innocent one, Paris," she said.

He stood and grabbed her hands, hauling her abruptly to her feet. Andromache gave a small cry, giving him a look with mixed incense and shock, only to nearly stumble as he began dragging her through the crowds.

"You, sister dearest," he said, tossing a mischievous look over his shoulder to her, "have been stalling. The bride must venture to her husband's chambers at some point, you know."

She opened her mouth to point out the unfairness of this accusation, with the reasoning that she had been speaking with him, as was expected, and that _he _had approached _her_, as her defense, but instead found herself being shoved just as suddenly as she had been jerked to her feet; Hector only barely caught her, as much taken by surprise as Andromache herself. She glared at Paris as he bowed elegantly to them and left.

Andromache straightened, smoothing her silks as she regained her composure. The men surrounding her husband were all highly amused, she could see plainly, though at least they attempted at hiding it, despite that they were very bad at shielding their mirth. "Princess," one of them said with a deep nod of his head. Andromache couldn't seem to recall his name, and so she simply nodded in return.

"We have been selfish, my lady," the one she remembered to be Lysander said, a smile not unlike Paris' across his face. "You may have your husband now, Princess, we will cease our monopolizing of his time."

Andromache sighed, realizing that she would be teased to no end, as Hector gave them a warning look. But then she smiled, deciding to play along. "Oh, it is of no consequence," she said lightly. "Hector is an important man, I can hardly expect to have him to myself at all times."

"Oh, believe me, Princess," another man - Tecton, was it? - said. "We have been selfish, indeed. The Prince is free for your disposal."

"Now that I am apparently released from my obligations," Hector interjected, "I believe I will take my leave."

He offered Andromache a hand, which she took, and he led her from the large hall into the darker, and much quieter, corridor, which Hector immediately . As soon as they were out of hearing range, Andromache said to him matter-of-factly, "Paris is _your _brother when he does things like that."

That got a laugh from him. "So I assume you only claim him when he is behaving himself, then?"

"You assume correctly," she replied as he led her down the halls. "Perhaps when I have had further influence I may claim him when he misbehaves. However, until that time comes, you must be the one to speak for him, given that he has lived with you all his life."

"Perhaps the blame for his poor manners are to be placed at my feet, then," he said, walking to a large, heavy door and pulling it open for her.

Andromache entered the room before him, suddenly very anxious: she knew what happened next, she was by no means untutored on _that _idea. Her mother, in fact, had spoken to her on the subject not a year ago, a few weeks after her betrothal had been officially announced. The idea had severely shaken her at the time, and though she was not nearly so afraid now, she couldn't quell the jolt of anxiety as her stomach turned to butterflies.

She surveyed the room in a desperate attempt at calming herself. It was large, larger than her chambers in Thebe, but was much simpler in its decoration. This, of course, was to be expected: it was a well-known fact that men paid very little attention to décor. Despite this, it was cozy, and a fire had already been brought to flame on the hearth. One of her trunks sat in the corner, and she knew that the others would be brought later, to be unpacked and stored away.

Glancing around the room, it occurred to her that _this _was her new home. The idea wasn't so frightening as she had first believed it to be; though, to be fair, she had first thought of it when she had been betrothed to Corydon. Things were different now, as she was very clearly not in Mytilene, and she had very clearly not married Corydon. It was a debt, she realized, that she would never have the ability to repay; Hector had rescued her from a fate much worse than death.

Andromache wetted her lips and smoothed the silk of her clothing, nervous gestures that betrayed her nerves far more than her expression or bearing. She gave a small laugh, amused at her own anxiety, and said nervously, "Such a fuss. I must confess, such gestures are foreign to me. Although," she turned back around to face him, "I suppose any nation would celebrate the marriage of its protector and future ruler."

Hector slid the lock into place, and she jumped at the sudden noise. Andromache flattened her hands against her thighs and stared at the floor, inwardly scolding herself. Hector came toward her and took her by the elbow. "Come over here," he said, ushering her along gently. "The view is best at sunrise or sunset, but this will suffice for now."

He took her out onto the balcony and pointed out over the city, past the plains before the gates, to a great, glittering mass that seemed to be in constant movement. "That, my love, is the sea," he told her, settling his hands on her shoulders. "If it is quiet enough, you can hear it from here as well."

It was rather difficult to see, though she could make out the glitter of the moonlight on the surface of the water; hearing it was even more difficult, thanks to the celebrations that were still taking place. None of that, however, mattered to her at that moment; it was the intention of the gesture that she most appreciated.

Andromache turned to face him, sliding her hands - albeit slightly hesitantly - onto his chest and smiling warmly. "Thank you."

He smiled at her in return. "For what?"

She sighed and shook her head, walking off the balcony and into the room. Roughly halfway across the room she stopped and sighed once more, looking at the bolted door as her anxiety returned. But no matter how great her apprehension, she knew that she would not have left that room for anything. She reached up under the veil and pulled the two pins holding her hair in place out, walking over to a nearby desk and placing them there, then slid the veil from her hair as she turned around to face him.

They stood very near at opposite ends of the room, a situation that she found slightly disturbing; it was almost as if they were at odds with each other. She bit her lip as the butterflies in her stomach began to carry her innards away, but she took a step toward him despite it.

"Andromache," he said quietly, starting toward her a slow pace. She held the veil in both hands, gently fingering the edge nervously. "Are you afraid?"

"No."

He was before her now, and reached out to take the veil from her hands. He gave the material a cursory examination before letting it flutter to the ground, drifting on the air until it gently fell to the stone floor. He stepped closer, and Andromache felt her heart leap into her throat.

"Are you nervous?"

She smiled and looked to the ceiling with a small laugh, a gesture induced purely by nerves, for there was nothing amusing about the situation. Everything was poised in a sort of intense silence, pressing down on her, though, oddly, it pressed on her almost pleasantly. Andromache met his eyes again and said, "Very."

He smiled faintly, reaching up to gently smooth her curls. "Don't be."

o0o

"How did this happen?"

Andromache looked at him, shifting her weight back onto her left elbow, her limb sinking into the soft mattress, as the fingers of her right hand gently ran over a scar on his left arm, just below his shoulder. In all actuality there were two, each a bright pink, despite their apparent age, and nearly perfectly parallel to each other. The longest had to have been two inches, though it was difficult to tell in the odd sort of half-light that emanated from the fireplace.

"That," he said, "is directly related to Paris."

She smiled. "This should prove amusing," Andromache commented. "The two of you seem to be notorious." She pulled her right arm back to her side, digging it into the mattress as she placed her chin in her hands, watching Hector expectantly.

Hector sighed slightly with a faint smile and toyed with one of her curls. "Father had a horse, a magnificent thing that had been a gift from-" He paused, frowning at her lock of hair. "Who was it from?" His eyes shifted to hers questioningly. "It wasn't from your father, was it?"

She shook her head. "It couldn't have been. Thebe couldn't have bred something intended for the Trojan stables."

He frowned at her. "Why?"

"None of the Theban horses have the makings of magnificence," she replied matter-of-factly, accompanied by a slight shrug.

He sighed, seemingly frustrated, and Andromache frowned. "What?" she asked.

Hector shook his head. "Nothing. Whoever it may have been from, Father had a horse that had been given to him as a gift. It was beautiful, but… spirited, if you will." Andromache covered her mouth with a hand, hiding her amused smile, already suspecting where the story was leading. "Paris was ten at the time, and desperate to prove himself, though I've never been able to deduce who he was trying to prove himself to. But to do it, he stole our father's prized, hardly manageable, horse and set off along the beach. It wasn't long before the beast threw him and ran for the hills."

"I would assume that you were the one Paris ran to?" she said, tilting her head slightly.

"I had always taken care of him before, and this would be no different. Let it suffice that my pace was much faster than my skills at the time warranted, and abrupt stops are never favorable under those circumstances."

She sighed, mock-disappointed. "Notice that you only summarize the segments that could have truly proved interesting."

"I don't wish to corrupt you so quickly," he countered; the look Andromache gave him was flat.

"I grew up with seven brothers, Hector. If I am to be corrupted, be assured that the task is already done."

"Then I don't wish to corrupt you _further _so quickly," he amended.

She smiled, holding back a laugh as she shifted to rest her head on his shoulder, a small bit of tiredness falling over her. "After being corrupted for so long, I am easily susceptible," Andromache replied, her voice quiet and her eyes closed.

"You sound tired," he commented.

Andromache propped herself up once more, raising one brow and giving him a look that said, 'And just why do you suppose that is?' Hector grinned shamelessly and gently lowered her head back to his shoulder. She sighed, content in a new sort of way, and was asleep within moments.

o0o

The blankets were drawn up over her shoulders and a gray, pre-dawn light filled the room when she next opened her eyes. She was also alone, but the warmth of the mattress next to her testified that she hadn't been that way for long. Andromache didn't move for a moment, simply blinking at the curtain that shielded the room from the balcony, perfectly willing to lie there for a bit longer. But the soft rustle of fabric drew her from her sleepy refuge, and she sat up, holding the blankets securely over her chest.

Hector caught her movement and looked over at her. "Did I wake you?"

"No," she replied, settling back against the pillows and drawing her knees up. "Even if you had, it was necessary. There are tasks that need to be completed."

"Indeed?" he inquired, coming over to the bed and sitting on the edge beside her. "And what tasks have you to complete?"

She sighed and ticked each task off on her fingers as she began, "First of all, I must unload all of my things from my trunks-"

"Is that not why servants are employed?"

Andromache sighed and said, "I can hardly move the trunks, and so, naturally, I will need their aid. But I will take everything out myself." The look he gave her was a laughingly questioning one, and she huffed. "They won't put everything in its proper place," she explained impatiently. "Everything must have an order, Hector, these things must be done in an organized manner. There is a place best suited for each item, and the item must be placed there. Unfortunately, it is rare that someone other than myself finds that best-suited place."

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender that Andromache felt was slightly uncalled for: after all, she had hardly been attacking him, simply explaining. She frowned at him, but somehow, this only served to amuse him further, which perplexed her even as it became a slight irritant; just what was so entertaining? Before she could make her inquiries, however, he sobered - or rather, forced himself to not look so amused - and asked, "What else?"

Andromache gave him a look, but said, "I must present my father's gifts to your parents, though… A public appearance will not be required, will it?" She bit her lip, looking almost comically worried, though Hector managed to keep his amusement to himself.

"You will have to appear before the people at some time, yes, but it need not be today," he informed her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"After the fuss yesterday, I would rather let things calm before I step into the public eye." She inched a bit closer to him, asking, "Have you anything?"

"War planning," he answered simply.

Andromache bit her lip and looked down at her hands as they sat folded in her lap. Hector placed his hand under her chin and lifted her face to look at him once more. "This was not your doing," he said firmly.

She offered him a thin sort of smile, not convinced that his words were true. Were she in Mytilene, and Corydon still alive, there would be no war, and she knew this as well as he did. He constantly insisted that Troy and Mytilene had always had shaky relations, but they both knew that she, the former Princess of Thebe, had been the catalyst for the Mytilian hostilities.

Hector sighed heavily, lifting a hand to cup her cheek, and she scooted closer and pressed her lips to his.

o0o

"Tell me, cousin, have you always been so meticulous?"

Andromache looked up from the trunk she was emptying, a streak of dust across her slightly damp forehead. She propped one hand on her hip, jutting it out as she bit her lip and stared at the floor, considering her answer. "Yes," she replied after a moment. "For as long as I can remember. My brothers certainly never were, which left me cleaning up most of the messes we left behind. I suppose it stuck."

The younger woman sighed heavily, dropping several scrolls onto the nearby desk. Andromache winced as they fell to the wooden surface with several hollow thuds, wanting to run over and snatch them up to check for damages. Instead, she flattened her hands over her hips, pressing her palms against the navy blue-dyed cotton. "I am loath to say it, Andromache, but you've turned the simple task of unpacking into a two-day-long enterprise."

Andromache laughed at this comparison and went over to her cousin, taking Briseis' arm and saying, "Then we shall have a respite. Will Paris be with the council?"

"I would think not," Briseis replied with a slight frown. "Very rarely does he participate in such things, I would suspect that this is no different."

"Shall we seek him out, then?"

"Naturally," Briseis answered, looping her arm through Andromache's as they left the chambers, the heavy doors thudding shut behind them. "Paris, though his reputation is deplorable at best, is really quite loveable."

"Do not speak to me of Paris' reputation," Andromache said, holding up her free hand in a shielding manner. "In this case, I should prefer to remain ignorant and naïve."

"If that is your wish," Briseis said with a shrug. "But you do realize that you will hear of it. It is a favorite topic among many, because many fear that he will bring about the doom of Troy with his antics."

"I don't care," she said stubbornly. "He is my brother now, and my younger brother at that. No one will say any such things around me, I can assure you. My brothers leaned very early to not upset me."

"You won't dissolve into a fit of tears, will you?" Briseis asked, frowning slightly. "That seems rather unlike you."

Andromache gave her a mischievous smile. "No, no tears. Not from me, at least. My temper leaves much to be desired at times."

Briseis laughed. "That I can imagine!"

The pair was soon wandering the garden, only passively seeking out the younger Prince of Troy. "I must warn you," Briseis said as they wandered under a pavilion-like balcony, "Paris is not only notorious for his nocturnal activities. He is also known as a bit of a trickster."

"That seems like him," Andromache admitted. "He is rather young for his age, don't you think?"

"Yes, very young," the younger woman agreed, right before something large and filled with water fell directly in front of them, splashing their feet and surprising a gasp from Andromache and a shriek from Briseis.

Andromache looked down at the broken water skin and the wet stones. The bottom, front portion of her skirts was nearly as wet as the stones, and the same applied to her companion. With a dark look, she tilted her head back to look up at the balcony, only to see, as she had expected, Paris' grinning face peering back down at her. He waved and disappeared with a laugh.

"I am going to kill him," she said flatly, staring up at the now-vacant balcony.

"You can't kill him," Briseis protested, and Andromache looked at her with raised brows.

"And why not?" she asked.

"Because _I _am going to kill him."


	16. The Fifth Day

**A/N: The title of this chapter refers to the fact that it's Andromache's fifth day in Troy. I thought I'd put that in there, just in case. A little clarification.**

**Dunthonwen, I agree, I think it's something you have to have experience to write, and I (fortunately) do not have it. I mean, if you can write it, more power to you. But I can't, lol.**

_**Chapter Sixteen  
The Fifth Day  
**_o0o

Andromache did not see much of her husband that day, but reasoned herself into not begrudging Priam and the council the monopolization of Hector. Whether by accident of design, she had married a very important man, and had done so willingly: as eldest prince of Troy and commander of Troy's armies (though, he had informed her, a newly made commander), he had duties that had to be placed before time with his wife.

Even so, she found herself frowning when he did not return by the time for evening meal came. Paris and Briseis had kept her entertained for a good majority of her time, enough time that she was far behind on her unpacking, but no amount of amusement could conceal the fact that she had not seen Hector since that morning. Or, perhaps, it was that no amount of amusement could conceal what this meant. If Hector was spending entire days in such meetings, then the threat was greater than he had led her to believe, and she knew it.

Not, however, that she allowed herself complaint. She forced a smile all through the meal, and even spared enough conscious thought to be kind to Hecuba. Andromache did her very best to be as polite as possible to the Queen of Troy, hoping to at least let the woman know that the Princess held no ill will towards her. If Hecuba saw this, it was more than Andromache could tell.

As the sun set that evening, Andromache set herself to her unpacking. Dark-colored cotton clothing the bottom drawer, light-colored in the next drawer. Dark-colored silks draped over the left side of the bar, darkest on bottom and lightest on top, and light-colored silks draped over the right side, darkest to lightest. Cotton veils went in the drawer above the light-colored cotton, and silk veils went in the top drawer. Jewelry pieces went to their respective places in a jewelry armoire that had been given to her as a wedding gift, and scrolls went in a bin next to it. Feminine bandages, in different shades so as to not be seen through the thin fabric of her clothing, were placed with their respective color coordinates in drawers. Formal sandals went in the bottom of the armoire, and casual ones on the floor next to it. Her scented waters, cosmetics, bath oils, and things of that ilk, though few, were arranged logically on the vanity, a large, polished sheet of metal serving as her mirror.

All that was left in her trunks were the gifts from the Theban royal family, and Theban court, to Hector and the Trojan royalty: wedding gifts. Those she would have sent to their respective recipients in the morning, as she did not wish to disturb people as they settled into their homes for the night.

Her task finished, Andromache realized belatedly that she should have gone about it at a slower pace: now that she was done, she had nothing to distract her. _Wonderful, Andromache, _she thought sardonically, looking up at her neatly arranged armoire from her position on the floor. With a heavy sigh she stood, wincing as her knees protested at being straightened after kneeling for so long.

She perfected the bed, which she had made and remade at least three times over in her task of arranging the rooms to her satisfaction. When she was convinced that the pillows could not be arranged any more proportionately, she went to the balcony, leaning on the stone railing and staring out over the city as light after light was extinguished. In the distance, the glitter of the ocean was one great expanse, and in the silence she heard the gentle crashing of the waves on the shore.

The night was eerily calm: an odd sort of subdued silence covered the city. Even the wind, which she had learned was a constant companion of Troy, was calm, a gentle breeze that swept cool air from the ocean through the streets and houses. She bit her lip, wrapping her hands about her elbows in order to hide their shaking. It was the calm before the fury, she knew, and she feared it.

_These people will hate me, _she thought, looking out of the city in the fading light. _And they will have every reason to do so._

She heard the door open, but could not bring herself to turn. _What have I done to these people? I should never have let him bring me here._

Hector came up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and pressing his lips to her hair. "Fretting again?"

"Of course not," she replied. Her voice was light, but the words had been an automatic response.

"Liar," he countered, a slight smile in his voice.

She turned around to face him. "You forget, I have always been given more freedom than most women. I know what happens during meetings with councils and kings. The longer they are, the worse the situation. You were there all day."

She stepped past him, re-entering the room as she wrapped her arms about herself. Hector stepped forward to be even with the pillars, watching her as she turned and leaned against the desk, her arms about her middle tightly. "If the situation were really so uncertain, we would be evacuating the city," he told her.

She sighed and gave him a slightly disappointed look. "Hector, I am hardly stupid. It would take a force far greater than Mytilene's to give cause for evacuation. Even then, it is doubtful; why leave the protection of the city and its walls behind?"

His smile was small, and slightly bitter. "I never meant to imply stupidity. I was trying for reassurance."

"I don't want reassurance. Perhaps my brothers should have warned you: reassurance has never had the desired affect on me. Typically, it makes me want to scream," she informed him. "I want the truth, Hector."

He considered her for a moment, then stepped into the main part of the room, slowly walking toward her. "The main concern was not only the approaching attack," he told her. "The King of Lampsacus received the message from his daughter. The termination of the betrothal. He had the messenger killed, and sent the head back to Cloris in silk wrapping, after the limbs were speared to his gate."

Her hand moved of its own accord, reaching up to cover her mouth, but she made no other reaction. Hector continued.

"He is furious, and not with Troy. He has disowned his daughter and declared war on Thebe."

Andromache's eyes slid closed as she fought for equilibrium. This was unexpected, and unwanted. After all that she had done in attempt to save Thebe from war, the elopement of the Princess of Lampsacus destroyed all that Andromache had struggled for. She reopened her eyes to find Hector in front of her, and she forced steadiness into her demeanor. "Lampsacus and Thebe are evenly matched militarily," she said, forcing her words to be even and confident. "I have no fear for that. Even if I did, my brother is a good commander and has a strong sense of battle coordination, and wields the love and loyalty of the men. That gives Thebe an advantage."

Hector reached up and rested his hand on her neck, his thumb brushing her cheek. "It's all right to be frightened," he said quietly.

Her eyes slid closed once again, and when she opened them, there was a slight sheen that had not been there before. She gave him the ghost of a smile. "No it isn't," she said quietly.

He sighed and turned from her, wandering toward where a fire blazed in the hearth. After a moment, she asked, "Is that all that was discussed?" she asked, almost conversationally.

"King Damen himself leads the Mytilian army. His younger brother, the one member of the Mytilian royal family that isn't insane, has been missing for years now. There are rumors that men loyal to the old ways of Mytilene are searching for him in order to place him on the throne."

"So should this younger brother be placed on the throne, we would have a chance at negotiations. Correct?" Her voice was direct, a sober tone that she only took when discussing politics and war with her father and brothers.

"Yes. Unfortunately, many wonder if he is even alive. It's entirely plausible that Damen had him killed."

"To protect his throne. He knows his rule is in jeopardy." She straightened, feeling the discussion make her feel slightly better. It was solid, something she could count on and something she knew of, and it gave her information. The last was most vital to her: if her husband was to be fighting, she wanted to know as much of the situation as she could. "Could that be used against him?"

"Not by us, no. Only by his own people."

"As I feared."

Hector turned to her with a small smile, walking over to her and pulling her to him. Andromache went into his arms gratefully, appreciating the comfort despite her apparent confidence. "You sound very much like my fathers councilors, only with added intelligence," he murmured. She didn't reply, and his voice was almost frighteningly grave as he said, "Thirty-five thousand Mytilian soldiers march on Troy as we speak. Our own men number twenty-five thousand. The odds are against us."

"Troy has the finest archers in the world," she pointed out, to reassure herself as much as him. "Not only this, but Troy has horsemen, also a distinct advantage, and the men fight for a leader whom they love, and who will fight with them. The Mytilian king will sit in a tent and give orders, letting the men do the killing and dieing for him."

"I was wrong," he said with a low chuckle. "You would make a wonderful general as well."

That got a small laugh from her, and she straightened. "Let us speak of something else," she murmured. "You already worry more than you should."

He raised a brow. "And you do not?"

Andromache threw him a smile and went over to her armoire, gathering her sleeping clothes. "Your brother," she said, closing the armoire doors and turning to face him with a teasingly annoyed look, "very nearly asked for death today."

"What did he do this time?" Hector asked with a roll of his eyes, and Andromache hid a smile as she stepped behind a screen to change. It was a move more out of habit than modesty (modesty was, in truth, no longer practical, given that he had seen everything), and she said from behind the wooden screen, "Briseis and I were on the receiving end of a dropped water skin this afternoon. We had an argument over who was going to kill him."

"That sounds very much like something Paris would do. You must learn to always look up," Hector said, grinning at her as she stepped out from behind the screen.

"Habit," she explained, though there was no question in his bearing, gesturing to the screen.

He had changed as well, wearing naught but a wrap that hung from his hips. With a small frown, she went over to where he stood and delicately fingered a scar that was placed on the upper portion of his abdomen, toward the center. It was a stark reminder to the life he led, and not for the first time, it crossed her mind that she had married a man who would acquire many scars in life. She shuddered, thinking of the circumstances that would cause such marks. He caught her hand, bringing her out of her reverie.

"Tell me," he said, drawing her over to the bed and sitting her firmly down onto it, "what stories did my dear brother and cousin taint you with today? I must correct the errors."

She laughed, but the haunting feeling did not leave.

o0o

_The halls were oddly empty as she wandered through her Theban home. Where was Erastus? Alexander? They were supposed to be in meetings with their father and the council, to prepare for the attack from Lampsacus. She was wearing the blue of Troy, but her necklace was fashioned into the shape of a flower native to Thebe. _

She turned to the hall that led to the throne room, a small bubble a fear welling up within her and growing, until she was very afraid, nearly terrified. Where was her family? They were needed! Where was everyone else, for that matter? Did they not know that Thebe was in danger?

Andromache entered the throne room, frightened and alone. What she saw, however, made her want to scream. Blood covered the floor, and the bodies a few servants, slaves, and soldiers littered the floor. She raised shaking hands to her mouth, then turned and fled.

She turned a corner and suddenly realized that she was now in the palace of Troy. Her hands were shaking violently from the sight she had seen, and as she walked she came across the entrance to a balcony. She didn't want to go out there, but no matter how fiercely she told her feet to take her away, they took her onto the balcony instead. As bad as the scene in Thebe had been, this was worse: thousands of Trojan soldiers were lying on the battlefield outside of Troy, and Mytilian soldiers were battering the gates, slowly breaking them away.

Women and children screamed, running as men grabbed whatever they could use for weapons and brought them to bear, ready to fight against the invaders to the death. Where is Hector? _she thought wildly. _Hector commands the finest army in the east, Troy will never fall so long as he protects her.

Then she realized that the only way that Troy would fall would be if Hector were dead…

Andromache's eyes snapped open, but she didn't move: she didn't want to disturb Hector, who was sleeping soundly beside her, his arm draped across her waist. But even as she laid there, her husband's protective presence beside her, her heartbeat refused to slow and her breathing refused to become even. She very carefully slid out of bed and went over to her armoire, pulling out a simple cotton dress and, wishing to leave Hector in peace, stole silently from their chambers.

The smaller balcony overlooking the gardens was more or less private, and so Andromache found herself there, leaning on the railing, facing east, as she did her best to calm herself. That dream had disturbed her a great deal, and had seemed terribly solid. She closed her eyes tightly, doing her very best to banish the images from her mind.

How long she stood there, she couldn't tell. All she really knew was that, as she stood on the balcony at the railing, there were footsteps behind her, and her husband was saying, "I was looking for you."

She turned, giving him a forced smile. He didn't take it, and walked over to her wordlessly and stood next to her, placing a hand at the small of her back. "Is everything all right?"

"It was only a dream, and I didn't want to wake you," she replied.

"That isn't precisely what I asked," he pointed out.

There was a moment of silence before she spoke. "I'm afraid," she said quietly. "Afraid for my family, Thebe, Troy." She looked at him. "You. This is one of the few times in my life in which I have no control." Andromache looked down, folding her hands about each other.

Hector drew in a deep breath and slipped his arm about her shoulders, pulling her to his embrace. Andromache closed her eyes and braced her forehead on his shoulder as he said, "You need not fear for Troy. I will protect her for you. You need not worry for me, because I have more than enough men to watch my back for me. As for Thebe and your family, I'm hoping to send at least three battalions to Thebe today, for protection."

Andromache nodded, her fears only barely less than they had been. They stood there for several moments as she forced herself to calm. Then Hector said, "When the Mytilians come, I ask you to stay here rather than go to the walls."

Andromache lifted her head to look at him. She knew of the observing platforms, complete with canopies to guard against the blazing sun, that were positioned at four points along the wall surrounding Troy, one platform for each major direction. It was customary for the royal family and court to go to such platforms and either observe training or watch battles.

"You know that you could order me to," she pointed out, and he scowled at her.

"You are my wife, not an unfeeling piece of property," Hector replied flatly

"Many men would argue," she said quietly, brushing her fingers against his cheek absently. "I will do as you ask."

He sighed in relief. "Thank you."

She nodded and leaned into him once more. "You are quite possibly one of the oddest men I have ever met," she told him, her voice muffled by the cotton of this clothing. "My father and brothers always treated their wives with respect, but the general idea is that women are property. You, my love, are a minority."

"I believe it takes a certain about of self-assurance to treat women with respect. A man who lacks that will treat his wife with disrespect," he explained. "Not only this, but women are physically weaker, and thus deserve a man's protection. As it is, we depend on women more than you depend on us."

"Do you, indeed?" she asked, lifting her head and looking at him with a raised brow.

"We do," he informed her. "In many ways."

She opened her mouth to ask in what ways, exactly, when a loud, hollow _dong! _resounded through the air, a sound she would learn to dread with her entire being. Hector stepped away from her, suddenly grim, and moved around her to look out over city. Andromache watched him as he stared for maybe an instant, and then very quickly pressed a kiss to her lips before walking purposefully away. Shaking now, her fears returning, she looked out over the city and saw a great mass. She realized with a dull horror that the flashes she saw were from shields, helms, spears, and blades.

The reaction to the warning had been instantaneous and immense. Screams came up from the city as people scattered, terrified. Out on the plain, the men who had been adding sharpened logs to the defenses ran to their positions as the frightened civilians ran, fleeing for their lives. The army was well-trained and handled the emergency well, but the civilians were nearly all in a mindless panic that caused more harm than good.

She reached out and braced herself against the railing, nearly crumpling as she was swamped with the nearly overwhelming urge to fall to the floor in tears. _This is my fault! _her mind cried in anguish. _This is my doing!_

Andromache straightened and, seeing the chaos that the city had become, set her expression and ran through the palace, her skirts bunched in her hands. When she finally emerged at the steps that led to the city, she dashed past Hecuba, and knew she would feel the consequences of it later. Suddenly she was jerked to a stop.

"Your Highness, no," a male voice said firmly. Andromache glared into the face of a palace guardsman, ripping her arm from his grasp.

"The people are nearly mindless," she snapped. "They need help, and since no one else will do it, I will."

"You are not to leave the palace without His Highness the Prince," the guard retorted. "It's the Queen's orders."

An unfamiliar fury washed over her, and she stomped her foot. "Then go help those people!" she shrieked at him, jabbing a finger at the city. "Take as many men as you need and _go help them_!"

The guard seemed to hesitate, but then nodded and murmured, "Princess," before rushing off, calling several other guards to him. Andromache watched them go, the screaming from the crowds loud even from that distance.

"_Andromache!_"

She turned and saw Briseis run towards her, her dark hair and veil flying. Looking at the younger woman's face and considering her tone of voice, Andromache realized that Briseis was afraid. Automatically she reached out a hand, gathering her skirts in the other, and Briseis latched onto her, clutching the Princess's hand.

"Where's Hector?" the younger woman asked, her voice indicating her frightened state.

"With the army. He left as soon as the signal started."

Briseis' eyes slid closed at this, her pained expression displaying nearly what Andromache felt inwardly. But Andromache was no fool, she knew that she needed to stay brave and maintain appearances, and so she tucked her fear away, carefully hiding the fact that her heart quailed at the noise and panic, and the large numbers of soldiers who were currently running at a full charge towards the city.

"Come with me," Andromache said, tugging Briseis along behind her. She led the way toward where Paris' chambers were and cried, "Paris!"

There was no response, and she paused, gazing around them. "Paris!"

"I'm here," a voice called out to them. The women turned and found Paris, looking much more grim than they were used to seeing him, standing at the end of the corridor. They went to him as he said, "Follow me, we're all to meet on the eastern pavilion."

Andromache skidded to a halt. "On the wall?"

"Yes," Paris answered. She shook her head.

"I can't," she informed them. "I promised Hector I wouldn't watch."

Briseis held onto Andromache's hand with both of her own, looking back and forth between Paris and the Princess. Paris adopted an even grimmer expression and said, "As you wish. But I will tell you now, listening is worse than seeing. Briseis? Pavilion or here?"

"I would rather not watch," the young woman said, her voice shaking slightly. "I will stay with Andromache."

"Very well." Paris reached out and embraced them both, then left.

Alone in the corridor, the two women watched as the younger Prince of Troy disappeared. Andromache forced herself to smile for Briseis. "Come. We will wait in my chambers."

Briseis nodded, and her cousin led the way to her and her husband's chambers.


	17. War Comes to Troy

**A/N: Hello to everyone! Sorry it took so long for me to get this to you. The real world hit, and it hit hard; I'm still on crunch time, as a matter of fact. But I'll do my best to keep the updates coming steadily, I promise!**

**However, I must report that the days of two updates a week are gone for a long while. :sigh:**

_**Chapter Seventeen  
War Comes to Troy  
**_o0o

Andromache tugged open the doors and ushered her cousin inside, and was about to follow when a voice called, "Princess!"

She turned and saw the guard from earlier coming toward her. "The people are in their homes, Your Highness," he told her. "There were casualties in the panic, but not many. Peace has been restored." He didn't add it, but they both thought the words, 'For now.'

"Thank you," she told him. "But I believe we are going to have to set up a set system for them to follow. Such mindless panic will only cause unneeded deaths. Such deaths are horrible during peace, but worse during war." He bowed and left, and Andromache slipped into her chambers.

She and Briseis sat on the bed, not speaking a word as they held on to each other's hands tightly, struggling to block out the sounds of battle. With the riot quieted, the battle noises were by no means smothered. Andromache forced herself to maintain a calm outward appearance even as she clutched Briseis' hand. She had never really seen battle before, but knew how to prepare a home for returning soldiers after one. But nor had she heard a battle before. Now that she had, she was of the opinion that hearing was far, far worse than seeing.

She could hear the clash of thousands of weapons, shields, and men, and the screams as soldiers were wounded and killed. If this were not horrid enough, she didn't know to whom the screams belonged. It could have been anyone down there dying, Mytilians, Trojans, _Hector_…

"Do you fear for him?" Briseis asked suddenly, her voice quiet.

Andromache looked up at her, moving her gaze from her lap to the younger woman's face. "More than anything," she replied.

"You don't show it," Briseis commented.

"I can't," Andromache replied. "I couldn't in Thebe, I can't here. Fear is an emotion that women are not allowed to show, and wives most of all." Briseis fell silent, holding Andromache's hand in both of hers.

The next few hours were the longest she had ever experience in her life. All she could hear were the sounds of battle, a great chorus of clashing weapons and dying men that plagued her as nothing else could. Worse, she knew that even if she had known of a way to block out the noise, she wouldn't do it.

That noise, even as it tormented her, was her only link to her husband. As she sat there on the bed that they shared, clutching the hands of her husband's cousin, she knew one of those screams could have belonged to him. This thought terrified her more than anything ever had before, and she fought against it with all that she could. _Hector will return._

Slowly, the sounds began to dissipate, but it was such a slow process that Andromache thought that it was simply a hopeful imagination on her part. But then Briseis' hands tightened, and she said, "It's _lessening_."

Andromache closed her eyes and sighed in an odd sort of relief. Whether Troy had won or lost this battle was still to be determined - as was Hector's well being. She was by no means no longer afraid. But a heavy weight seemed to be lifted with the knowledge that it was nearly over.

"Come," she said, standing. "We can wait for them at the steps."

Briseis nodded, and together they slowly walked the corridors, listening to the fading sounds of battle as they made their way to the steps at the main entrance. Before a long time had passed, they stood alone on the steps, staring out towards the city. Soon, Paris joined them.

"It's over for now," he told the two women.

Briseis nodded, but Andromache made no response. "Is there any news of Hector?" Briseis asked quietly as the King and Queen began to make their way toward them.

"None," Paris said just as quietly, casting a glance at Andromache. "We lost sight of him."

Andromache did not move, nor did she speak. She simply stared, waiting, stubbornly ignoring the concerned glances that Paris and Briseis gave her. Paris reached out and grabbed her free hand, and he and Briseis stood on either side of her almost protectively as Priam and Hecuba stepped to be even with them. Hecuba sent Andromache a disapproving glance, one which the recipient did not acknowledge. Paris, however, sent his mother a look, and she arched her brow at him before facing forward.

Standing there as the sun began to sink lower, Andromache felt as though the day had been several years long. She kept her mind carefully blank as they waited, not wishing to dwell on all the horrible things, as she knew her mind would do. Her face was bland and emotionless, and at her side, Paris' expression was grim - he had seen that bland mask before, and the circumstances had been less than favorable. He had hoped that he would never see it again.

It was at least another hour before the commanders of the army began their weary trek up the steps. Their walk was a slow, heavy one, indicating both weariness of mind and body. Hector, in the middle of the small crowd, met her gaze as they finally mounted the last step. He glanced to his parents and gave the a short nod in greeting, then went to where his wife stood, protected on either side by his brother and cousin. He held out a hand to her, and Andromache sent a grateful look to both Paris and Briseis before reclaiming her hands and slipping her hand into Hector's.

She followed him into the dimly lit corridor, and soon enough they were in their chambers. As soon as the door was closed behind them, he made to loosen the straps of his armor. Still blandly silent, Andromache moved to help him, causing him to look up at her in slight surprise. She ignored his look, continuing to work at the straps until he could remove the armor, and she stepped away and went to sit on the bed.

Andromache watched, wordless and bland, as he tiredly rinsed his face and lower arms. His hands and arms were blood-stained, and she knew as well as he did that the blood was not his. She could tell by his expression that this bothered him, but it was an odd comfort for her. It was horrible that he had to resort to killing, but Andromache would rather have him rinse others' blood off his hands than attend his funeral. It was a cruel thought, and she knew it, but she couldn't make herself deny the truth of it.

He paused and looked at her for a moment as she stood. And then, very suddenly, he was before her, pressing his face into her neck and holding on to her tightly. Andromache returned his embrace fiercely, knotting her fingers in his hair. "I don't think you realize just how reassuring it was to me when you walked up those steps," she whispered, her voice thick with the tears she had been fighting the entire day. "I was so afraid."

Hector pulled away, smoother her hair with one hand as he said, "I must speak with Father and his council." He looked very reluctant to leave, and, what unnerved her the most, his eyes were haunted. "Wait for me?"

Andromache nodded, grabbing his other hand and hoping that she was being reassuring. "Always."

A sudden thud at the door to their chambers caused Andromache to jump. Hector sighed, bracing his forehead on her shoulder for a moment before going to the door. Andromache looked down at her hands, smoothing her clothing absently as her husband spoke with their visitor.

She didn't know what to think. It had been unspeakably horrible, listening to the battle. She had never seen a battle, nor heard one, only prepared a home for returning soldiers. Andromache hardly knew how to take everything - the horrors, the terror of the people, the haunted look in her husband's eyes, she had no earthly idea how to take these with equanimity and correct them. She had no control, and was deathly afraid.

_Perhaps I should let the Mytilians take me,_ she thought rather mournfully. _They would leave Troy then, and perhaps all these wrongs would correct themselves._

She bit her lip and fisted her hands gently. They would be corrected for Troy, and Hector, but not in the same way they would be corrected for her: Andromache would be dead, she knew. Damen would keep her as a slave, if he kept her at all, and she would die before she served that man. If she did give herself to the Mytilians, she would smuggle a poison with her and commit suicide as soon as peace with Troy was assured.

"Andromache."

She looked up at him, snapped from her reverie. "Yes?"

"My mother wishes to see you."

She nodded, smoothing her clothes nervously. "Did they say what this was about?"

"No, I'm afraid not." He slid an arm around her shoulders as they each walked out of the room, holding her close to his side as they made their way down the corridor.

Andromache bit her lip nervously, reviewing her encounters with the Queen of Troy over the past few days. Their numbers were few, and she had maintained her best behavior during each of them. Then why had Hecuba asked for her presence? She had the awful feeling that it was not to apologize for past attitudes towards her.

When they reached the meeting hall, Hector stopped, pressed his lips to her hair, then left, and Andromache carried on alone. Soon, she found herself standing before the door to Hecuba's chambers, and she bit her lip fiercely before raising the large bronze ring that hung on the door and letting it fall on the heavy wood. The noise, though expected, made her jump slightly, and Andromache did her best to calm her nerves, casting a glance over her shoulder. Perhaps it was nothing! She had worked herself into a fuss for what was probably nothing of consequence.

Somehow, she didn't quite believe herself.

The door opened, and a servant bowed to her as she entered. Queen Hecuba stood, regarding her mercilessly. Andromache bowed her head deeply. "You sent for me, my Queen?"

"I did," she said, walking towards her with a sort of cold, hardened grace. "I wished to speak to you about your behavior."

Andromache bowed her head, lowering her eyes and clasping her hands before her, doing her very best to appear subservient - this was about what had happened that morning, when the signal had sounded. She was in no mood for conflict, and wanted to avoid it at all costs; if acting meek and lowly would prevent an argument, then she would do so. Still, she couldn't help but feel a stab of irritation at the injustice of the Queen's words; surely one mistake after five days was not worthy of reproach?

"I realize," Hecuba said imperiously, "that you had a great deal of freedoms in Thebe. I would like to remind you now that this is not Thebe. You have an image in which you are held, and you must uphold this image. Not only this, but your behavior must reflect the house of Troy. Your behavior today, when the signal came, was inappropriate. And then, you proceeded to hide in the palace rather than go to the pavilion."

Andromache's head flew up at that. "Hector asked me not to," she said with a frown.

That seemed to be bothersome to Hecuba, though Andromache could not see why. What did it matter to Hecuba if her son didn't wish for his wife to go to the wall? "I see," the woman said. "At any rate, your behavior was deplorable at best. I would expect better from a Princess of Troy." Her gaze was piercing, and Andromache looked down once more. "You may go now."

She bowed and left, fleeing while doing her best to make it look as though she was _not _fleeing. As she made her way back toward her rooms, she frowned to herself. Why _did _Hector not want her to go to the wall? Andromache could think of no reason - no obvious one, at least. Still, she could hardly keep herself from wondering. She wanted to ask him, but his exhausted and troubled state stayed her words; he needed support, not questions.

She waited for an hour after her words with Hecuba, changing into her sleeping clothes and sitting on the edge of the bed, her posture perfect and her hands folded in her lap. She had been so afraid, terrified that he had been slain, and not really believing that he had survived until she had touched him. Her fear was assuaged, but not for long, she knew. Unfortunately, though her fear was extinguished, her long, torturous day was not yet over.

When her husband returned, she was at his side almost instantly, guiding him to the bed and sitting him down on it, taking her place beside him. Andromache frowned gently and tenderly touched the skin of his cheek, near a cut that had not been there before. Her hand was shaking when she pulled it away.

"There will be more," he told her quietly.

"I know." She smiled gently at him. "They say that such things testify to a life well-lived."

Hector looked at her his expression bland, though his eyes were not so haunted as they were before. "What is it?" she asked softly, more than slightly distressed.

He shook his head. "Nothing," he said, looking at the wall.

"Liar."

Hector jerked his head around to look at her, then smiled slightly. "Should I have known better?"

"Naturally," she replied airily. "I have had many years experience extricating the information I want from stubborn men. I have-"

"Seven brothers," he finished for her. "I remember."

"So do you wish to tell me now, or after I'm through with you?"

He smiled, but it quickly faded. "War," he said. "Needless deaths. It never fails to amaze me that men resort to it."

_This was my doing. _She cupped his cheek, and he met her eyes once more. "I love you," she said quietly. "More than anything."

o0o

Andromache did not sleep well that night. Her mind whirled with thoughts of the war in her waking moments, and when she slept, she was plagued by the same dream: she was on the wall, facing the west and standing on the western pavilion. Troy's army was assembled before the wall, the archers standing on the wall, and a great army, far greater than any number she had ever seen, stood opposite them. Hector and Paris, each on horses, were at the front of the army, and seven chariots came out from the main part of the other army. Every time the dream returned, she felt such a harrowing sense of dread that she forced herself to wake.

Instead, she watched her husband sleep. He was lying on his side, facing her, with his back toward the balcony. His arm was draped over her waist, and he very peaceful, enough so that it wrenched at her heart. She bit her lip and very gently rested her hand on his chest, over his heart.

"You should be sleeping," he said, causing her to start.

"As should you," she pointed out. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't." He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Today was difficult, wasn't it?"

She looked at her hands, rather than his eyes, and gave a sort of half shrug. "I can cope."

"That hardly answers my question."

Andromache looked at him again. She had no wish to burden him when he already had so much on his mind. At the same time, however, she knew that he would know if she were lying. "Very," she answered. "There's nothing for it. The sounds of battle cannot be smothered, and there will be no negotiations. I can cope."

"If there is anything I can do-"

"You have done more than enough," she assured him. "Get your rest. You need it."

o0o

The next day was no easier. If anything it was worse - her husband's reactions to battle, as well as the sounds coming from the plains surrounding Troy, which seemed even more vicious than the day before, fiercer and much less forgiving, combined to send Andromache's nerves over the edge. To remove the sting, she and Briseis had ventured out into the city itself, in order to see the people.

In Thebe, during the very few wars that had occurred in Andromache's lifetime, those who had remained in the city, mainly women, had left the palace and mingled directly with the people in order to reassure them. Though she had been fairly young, she remembered going down to the city with her mother and Alexander's new wife, who had been rather young at the time. They had spoken with the people, reassuring them that Thebe was in no danger of being conquered. As a wife herself and princess of a new nation, Andromache felt that the same actions could be applied to Troy, despite its greatness.

"You did this in Thebe often?" Briseis asked. They were walking down the nearly-empty streets with their arms looped together. Their clothing was simple, but elegant, and Andromache wore no jewelry - Briseis wore a circlet over her veil to hold it in place.

"I went into the city often, yes," she replied rather absently, surveying their surroundings curiously. "Wars were very rare, only one occurred during my time there. Raiders and bandits were more common, and even those were sparse. One of the luxuries of being a relatively inconspicuous nation."

Briseis sighed. "Troy isn't under attack constantly, but the army is in motion constantly. The people outside the city walls are attacked by raiders more often than any of us like."

Andromache frowned gently as she craned her neck to see further down the dusty street. "Outside the walls?"

"Yes," Briseis replied. "If all the Trojans were to live within the city walls, there would be no room to breathe. Besides, all of our farms are outside the walls."

"That makes much more sense than it doesn't," she murmured, realizing that, coming from such a small nation, she was at a distinct disadvantage as to knowing the inner workings of a city. She stopped, placing a hand on Briseis' arm as she looked over at a stall that was open despite the marked lack of available customers.

The woman who stood there would have been very pretty, with her black curls, olive skin, and warm, cinnamon brown eyes, but for her evident exhaustion. Her posture was suffering, as if she slim shoulders bore the weight of the world, and her eyes were guarded and wary. She was small, nearly as small as Andromache, which was a rare thing indeed, though it seemed rather unnatural for this woman. A small girl clung to her leg, looking forlornly about the streets. The sight was a haunting one.

Andromache offered an affable smile as she approached, giving a small wave to the little girl, who shyly waved back. "Good afternoon," she said as the woman stared at her, looking very much as if she were unsure what to make of the situation. "How are you faring this day?"

"Well enough," the woman said, looking guarded. "I could be faring much better, but such is the will of the gods."

Andromache's smile turned wry. "The gods are volatile. Perhaps we should depend on ourselves for our day-to-day happiness?"

"If you say, Princess."

She looked away from the older woman's piercing cinnamon gaze. "I hadn't thought you recognized me." Briseis slipped her hand into her cousin's, squeezing the Princess's hand reassuringly.

"It would be difficult to not recognize the woman who stole the heart of the great Prince Hector."

Andromache looked at her, her gaze assessing. What was this woman thinking? More than likely, she was thinking that Andromache was naught but a spoiled child who had never faced hardship in her life. For the most part, if that was what the woman was truly thinking, her thoughts were right. The Trojan Princess knew that she had led an easy life thus far as well as she knew anything. True, certain events in her life had been difficult, but she had hardly known true hardship.

"The woman who also brought war to your country?" Andromache asked bluntly, her face unreadable.

The woman shifted, reaching down to take the little girl's hand. "Near as I can tell, Your Highness," she said, "you had very little to do with it. We constantly hear rumors from the Big Hill about Mytilene and what that imbecile king of theirs has done recently. It's no surprise that His Highness finally declared war. The only surprise is that this is all over a woman."

"And an unworthy one at that," Andromache muttered. She was about to ask the woman a question when she spoke, interrupting her.

"I wouldn't let the others hear you call yourself unworthy," the woman commented, her eyes piercing in a way that her words were not.

"Why is that?" Andromache asked, almost cautiously.

"Because our husbands, sons, fathers, and brothers are out there fighting," she replied. "Because the people need to have faith in their royalty. How can they have faith in their royalty if that royalty doesn't have faith in themselves?"

"I see your point," Andromache said fairly. There was a sudden, dramatic increase in the constant sound of battle, and she winced visibly before saying. "I will do my best to improve. But, if it helps…" She gave the woman a rather bitter smile. "My husband is out there fighting as well."

The woman nodded, conceding Andromache her point.

o0o

Perhaps the most difficult thing was, once again, waiting _after _the battle sounds had stopped. The tension, already pushing them all very near to breaking point, seemed twofold during that time. Andromache found that it was slightly easier to bear when she wasn't under the eyes of the entire court. Therefore, she risked the wrath of her new family and remained in her rooms as she waited for her husband to return.

She had plenty of time to wait. It was quite possibly one of the most difficult things she'd done, and all she could do for it was pace, hoping and praying to any listening deity that her husband was alive and well. There was nothing else she could do. Visiting the people had only helped to a certain extent; after her conversation with the stall woman, her mood had taken on a definite gravity.

Paris had said that things were easier when one could actually see the events one was hearing, and she no longer doubted this assertion in the least. Listening, she had no way of knowing, no way of assuring herself… all she had was a haunting noise that disturbed her even when she could no longer hear it.

Did Hector realize what he was asking of her by requesting that she not go to the wall? Perhaps he didn't, which was a perfectly reasonable assumption; how many battles would he, who had been a soldier nearly all his life, have _watched_, let alone listened to? She bit her lip fiercely, but knew that she couldn't endure another day like the past two.


	18. Doubt

**A/N: Remember me? I'm back! Hopefully updates will be a lot steadier after this, as my life has calmed down significantly recently. Once I'm through with this, I'm on to my LotR fic... but that's later! Be prepared for regular updates once more! Thanks for hanging in their for me!**_

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_Chapter Eighteen  
Doubt_

Andromache had worked herself into a great distress by the time the door was finally shoved open. Her entire demeanor was harassed, and she had the restless manner of a caged wild creature as she paced their chambers incessantly. She knew that it would only make things worse in the end, brooding over her day, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. With a small sound of aggravation, she went out instead to the balcony; but not even that impressive sight, it seemed, could hold her attention for long. Fear and dulled horror, combined with rising degrees of tension, joined to form an intimidating force that clouded her thoughts, and she found herself pacing once more.

Soon, it seemed as if the walls themselves were shrinking in on her, and it occurred to her that perhaps her sanity had fled. _Then_, she considered, _if I realize that my sanity has fled, has it _truly _fled, or do I simply_ believe _it has fled?_

There was no answer to that, and she didn't attempt to find one. Instead, she turned and looked at the door, as if it held the answer to all her questions. The walls continued to shrink as her head began to feel light and fuzzy, and she realized that to stay in those chambers much longer would be to invite lunacy. Abruptly she went to the door and yanked it open, determined to go somewhere, _anywhere_, only to find her path cut short.

"What are you doing?" Hector asked her, and she shifted on her feet, her nervous energy creating within her a general state of restlessness and unease.

"If I stay here much longer you will no longer find a sane woman in your rooms," she muttered, looking away. Now that she faced him, Andromache found herself facing more than a small amount of guilt for her feelings: he had requested that she not go to the wall for a reason--though, to be fair, he had yet to tell her what that reason was--and her only thought was to rail against his request.

He watched her for a moment, then stepped aside, and she looked at him. "Walk with me," he said, and after a moment, she nodded.

She felt utterly wretched. Despite what he had been through, and the self-torture she knew he put himself through because of it, he was waiting for her to explain her own unease. _When, precisely_, she wondered cynically, _did I become so self-centered?_

None of her remorse, however, changed the simple fact that she could not yet again listen to a battle as the Mytilians crushed the Trojan army, her husband at its head, between their forces and the very walls the Trojans were defending, the outcome of the clash being left totally to her imagination, which instantly assumed the worst. These two warring instincts--the need to both assuage her husband and calm her own agitated psyche--left her feeling like a wretch.

They walked until they reached the garden, which was dim in the torchlight. There was no orchard for her to lose herself in, it was true, but Andromache satisfied herself with a secluded stone bench. She sat, staring at the ground, fully aware that Hector was watching her, waiting for her to tell him why she could no longer remain in their chambers, which was supposed to be their mutual sanctuary.

When it became clear that she was not going to speak any time in the near future, Hector broke the silence with grim tidings. "The rest of the Mytilian forces will arrive during the night."

She looked up at him, startled. "They were not here before? I thought-"

"Only a portion of the army is outside our walls," he confessed, shaking his head, and she found herself rising to her feet without having told her body to do so.

"And you are only telling me this now?" she demanded. "For two days I thought-" Andromache sighed and turned away, putting a hand to her forehead in an effort to calm herself. Jut how large was the portion of the Mytilian army? How much longer would this continue? The one war she had endured in Thebe had not been so long…

"What did you think for two days?"

She whirled to face him. "That it would be over in another two, perhaps three," she informed him in a tone that could almost be call waspish. "And now I find that hardly half of the forces against are actually in place? Try to imagine, if you can, my alarm."

"Not half," he said quickly. "I told you that they had thirty-five thousand men?" She nodded. "At the moment, there are twenty-five thousand positioned outside the walls. The final ten thousand will be here by morning."

"Ten thousand," she said in a distressed tone, "is a rather large number all the same."

He didn't reply, and she returned to the bench, staring at her hands folded in her lap for a moment before looking back at him. "This experience," she said lowly, "is one I am wholly unaccustomed to. Any knowledge I can have is knowledge I am grateful for." He looked away then, and her voice trembled slightly as she added, "Without knowledge and logic, I have nothing to set against my imagination, which has, I assure, been running rampant for the past two days."

"I had no intention of deceiving you," he said emphatically, his voice as low as her own.

Andromache shook her head, smiling despite herself. The situation really was not in the least bit amusing, leading her to conclude that the smile was the result of some sort of hysteria. "I know that," she replied. "What I do not know is why you never told me."

"If I knew, I would tell you," he muttered darkly, running his hand agitatedly through his curls.

She considered for a moment, watching him as he paced away from her a few steps and surveyed their surroundings. Perhaps… perhaps he had not told her in order to protect her. At first thought, this reasoning was senseless, but upon further deliberation, she found that it probably had, in fact, been his subconscious reason for not telling her. All his life, it had been a part of his responsibility to protect the weak, which included women. He had been raised to protect women in general, and his wife in particular, when he had one. This, of course, included a woman's mentality. If one were to follow this reasoning, she rationalized, it would then follow that he had been raised to keep information from her if it meant protecting her well-being.

Of course, this line of reasoning, though admirable, excused nothing. "I believe," she said hesitantly after a moment, "that I know why, even if you do not. Perhaps, then, I may propose something."

Hector turned to look at her and gestured for her to continue. She flattened her hands on her thighs and swallowed, then said, "I have found, over the past two days, that I can no longer simply sit and wait for your return. I-" She faltered and looked away.

"Go on," he encouraged quietly as he came towards her slowly.

"I- I find that… watching to a battle cannot possibly be so horrific--and traumatizing--as listening to one. Everything is left completely to the imagination, and Mytilian men sound remarkably like Trojan men when they're dying."

Taking one of her hands in both his own, Hector sat beside her and asked, "What, then, do you propose?"

She hesitated a moment, then looked at him and said, "We both know that withholding the size of the attacking army is of little consequence to me, particularly at this time. I would like, however, for you to let me go to the wall."

"You don't need my permission. You know this," he said guardedly.

"But I wish to have it," she admitted. "I won't go against your wishes, not in this."

He studied her face for a moment before saying, "Answer me one question."

"Anything."

"Why?"

She looked away, turning to study the garden with eyes that didn't really see them. "Have you ever listened to a battle? Not been a part of, not watched, but _listened_." She looked back to him then, her gaze possessing a hint of desperation and distress that hadn't been there before. "You know _nothing_. Your home could be on the verge of being overrun, and all you hear is a great roar. And the fallen could include anyone. I have reason to believe that to listen to another battle will send me over the edge of sanity. You have to remember, I've never been through anything like this."

He was silent, and Andromache feared that she had crossed some unknown line. She quickly made to recompense, clutching at his hands and leaning towards him earnestly. "I realize that you must have some reason for asking me to remain, and that reason could hardly be negligible, but I-"

Hector reached up and placed a hand gently over her mouth. "Stop apologizing for being human," he murmured quietly, giving her an assessing look as he dropped his hand.

She reached out and gently rested a hand on his arm, more distressed than she cared to admit. Andromache wished for nothing more than to take back her words and assuage his obvious unease. Taking back those words, however, would not retain her sanity through yet another day similar to the previous two. Not only that, but retracting words once they have been uttered was nothing but a dream, and attempts at compensating for words already uttered typically had ill affects--the latter she knew, unfortunately, from experience. Thus, she remained silent as she gripped the cloth at his shoulder in one small fist.

"I only make this request out of desperation," she said lowly. "Please try to understand."

Turning to look at her, Hector bestowed an assessing look on her before looking down at her hand in his, which he was caressing gently. "Do you know why I asked you to remain away from the wall?"

Andromache bit her lip, removing her hand from his shoulder and placing it in her lap. Hector released her other hand, and she clasped them together tightly. Almost hesitantly, she answered, "No."

He sighed and was instantly on his feet, leaving Andromache to stare up at him anxiously. "I wished for you to not see," he muttered, well nigh inaudibly, running a hand through his already unruly curls.

"Wished for me to not see?" she repeated, perplexed. What, she wondered, could he possibly mean? What did he want to protect her from?

Or hide from her.

She, very quickly, pushed that unhappy thought away.

Hector sighed once more, looking rather as if he didn't know how to phrase his words. Andromache thought to rise and go to him, but reconsidered when observed his completely impenetrable expression; better to let him come to her when he was prepared to do so, she reasoned. After a long moment, during which Andromache grew more and more anxious, he finally spoke.

"The man you married," he said darkly, looking at the surrounding flora rather than her, "is not the man you would see commanding the Trojan army."

Andromache raised one brow. 'I believe I married the leader of the Trojan army; how could he not be the same man?' she wanted to ask. When it appeared that he wasn't going to continue, she commented, "My brother once said something similar to his wife. As I recall, she threw a cup of wine at his head."

He looked up at her in surprise, then gave an ironic sort of chuckle, rubbing his hand across his brow. "Did he earn such a reaction?"

"In her view he did," she informed him. "She was angry with him for believing that she would think less of him because he did what was needed."

Hector looked at her for a moment, and she met his gaze unwaveringly. The core issue, she had realized, was that he feared her reaction to his actions as a warrior. He looked as if he might speak, then stopped, and Andromache rose and padded over to him. "Our marriage," she reminded him gently as she walked, "was not an arranged one. I was given a choice, and I chose to come here. With _you_." She reached out and, with a small smile, pressed his knuckles, calloused and scarred as they were, to her lips. "No battle could possibly change the reasons that brought me here."

He sighed and brought his other hand to clasp hers as he leaned down to brace his brow on hers. "Your loyalty amazes me even now," he muttered.

"Then perhaps you never met the right sort of people," she reasoned in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

Her attempt at levity failed spectacularly. "Andromache…" He straightened and bestowed her with a look that was so uncharacteristically anxious that she nearly laughed. Realizing, however, that this was a very unwise thing to do, she managed to restrain herself. "I become very nearly a different person when in such states of affairs. I think of nothing by his weapon and my own. Not for a moment will I consider you, or your opinion-"

"I should hope so, I daresay," she interrupted bluntly, with little tact. "I would much rather you not think of other things when in combat. Imagine my distress if I thought you to be thinking of giant squids rather than staying alive!"

"Be serious, Andromache."

She sighed, realizing that these were fears that only experience would assuage. "I must admit," she said quietly, "I find it troublesome that you distrust me in this matter. Nothing, save a further questioning of my devotion," she added pointedly, "could sway my affection." She crossed her arms over her chest and raised on brow. "I am beginning to realize why Megara threw that cup at Erastus," she said dryly. "Am I allowed to throw something at you?"

Hector blinked at her, and then very suddenly laughed. "Do you truly expect me to give you permission to throw something at me?" he asked, truly amused for what she knew to be the first time in days.

"No," she said with mock thoughtfulness, her eyes glittering. Simply inspiring some levity into her husband's countenance was enough to make her smile. "But I thought I might make an attempt at courtesy nonetheless. I propose this: If I _do _throw something at you, I promise that it will be empty when I throw it."

* * *

Neither the Princess nor the Heir of Troy slept well that night. Each of them did their best to give the appearance of sleep, for sake of the other, but neither truly rested. Unfortunately, it was not until the early morning, when her husband had arisen and begun to prepare himself for the ordeal ahead, that Andromache realized this. Still bleary from sleep, she slowly levered herself upright. The first sign she was given alluding to her husband's exhaustion was the simple fact that he didn't realize that she'd woken.

"You're exhausted," she stated quietly.

Hector looked over at her, saw that she was indeed awake, and came over to her, resting a hand on her slender shoulder. "There is quite some time yet before you will need to be at the wall. Paris will come for you," he said quietly, reaching up to smooth her hair.

Andromache ignored this and scooted herself closer to him, then leaned forward to lean her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding tightly. She felt his arms close about her, and her world was suddenly much closer to righting itself. That world, however, was by no means completely righted--Hector was still about to step onto the field of battle, a thought that frightened her a great deal more than she cared to say.

She had feared for her brother's lives before; the occasional bandit raid had called for them to don armor, and she had been anxious for them, afraid that they would not return to her. But that anxiety had been nothing compared to the terror she felt when Hector moved to wear armor. Sadly, she had yet to figure out why this was so.

In that moment, however, she wanted nothing more than to take the coward's path and beg him to stay. She knew, however, that any such request would be in vain. Her husband's nobility was beneficial and detrimental by turns: Hector would never distribute orders that he himself would not aid in carrying out. Worse, however, was the knowledge of how terribly unjust of her it would be to make such a demand of him. It rank amongst the cruelest things she could do to her husband, and she was all too aware of it. And so, she settled for saying what she knew she had to.

"_Be careful_," she whispered emphatically, squeezing her eyes shut against the urge to scream, "DON'T GO!" "Please be careful."

"I will," he said comfortingly, his hand smoothing her curls. Then she remembered something he had said the night before and jerked back to meet his gaze.

"Swear to me," she said vehemently, "that I will not cross your mind when you are on that field." He frowned, clearly perplexed, and she grabbed his tunic and shook it a bit. The action was highly ineffectual--causing her husband a fair bit of confusion was the most influential impact the movement had--but she felt better for doing it. "Until you are safe behind the walls, I do not exist. _Promise me_."

"I hope you realize," he said slowly, "that it's highly unlikely that I will forget your existence."

Any other wife, she realized dryly, would have been thrilled by such an admission. Andromache ignored this. "I expect you to return to me alive and in one piece," she said in a tone that brooked no argument. "In order to do so, you must focus your energies on surviving, not fretting over me."

"Andromache-"

"_Promise me_!"

She was very near to panicked by now, terrified that she would somehow be responsible for some distraction that got him killed. The idea of attending Hector's funeral was more than she could bear.

"Very well," he said. "I promise."

Andromache let out a sigh of relief, her eyes sliding closed as she leaned back into his embrace. "Return to me," she said, more to herself than anything. "That is the only thing that matters."

"I know, my love," he murmured, and she realized that he'd heard what she'd said. Realizing that her momentary panic was, doubtless, doing more harm than good to her husband's moral, Andromache abruptly straightened and struggled to offer him a smile.

"So long as you realize that," she said. "I will be most upset if I find you unable to return."

He gave her a small smile and kissed her forehead before wordlessly standing to finish his preparations. For her part, Andromache simply stretched herself out across their bed in an attempt relative calm, resting her head on her husband's pillow. It was, perhaps, one of the most difficult things she had ever had to endure: Hector was standing a fairly short distance away, preparing himself for a battle that _she _had brought upon him, and it was all she could do to not beg him to remain behind, with her. She knew perfectly well why she couldn't, but no amount of reasoning would banish the ideas.

After finishing his preparations and kissing her, he left quietly, and Andromache was left on her own. She sighed, staring up at the stone ceiling as the sun began to rise. How often had her brother's wives felt such a dramatic urge to bar their husbands within their chambers? She could recall no specific incidents, but then, war was highly uncommon in Thebe. None of her family members had face a situation quite like hers. They had faced similar, it was true, none quite the same. She had no example to tell her if she was being irrational or if her fears were justified.

Feeling rather lost, Andromache climbed out of the bed and began to make her own preparations. If her husband was to fight, she decided, she would at least do him the honor of looking well before his people. She struggled to push away the thought that how she looked would not matter in the least if he were dead, deciding to fall back on a bit of advice Megara had once given her.

"If ever you need confidence," the woman had said, "take care with your appearance."

Andromache had always found this to be very useful advice; now, however, she was very much afraid that no amount of good appearances would give her the confidence that she needed.

* * *

Next chapter out in about a week, I hope. 


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